Se Revoir
by HappyHouri
Summary: Every beginning starts from an ending. Ginny was whisked off to France after the Chamber of Secrets and has been there ever since. Can she find her way back with the help of a certain Green-Eyed man?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_There was blood on her hands, so much blood. No matter how much she tried to wipe it off onto the black of her robes, they always came back even more red. She ran down the hall, which seemed to stretch on forever, frantic to find someone to help her, yet terrified that someone-anyone-would come out of one of the connecting hallways and see what she'd done._

_Her footsteps echoed in the hall, bouncing off the high ceilings and echoing on, pounding in her ears as much as her heart was. On and on she ran, finally finding voice enough to call out for help. She pounded on the doors, leaving more red smeared on the dark wood and along the stone walls._

"_Please! Please someone help me! I didn't mean it! Please!"_

_When she came to a staircase leading down, she stopped, chest heaving, hands shaking. She reached to grasp the banister and pull herself down, away from the horror behind her, but a sharp sound, like the slamming of a door, stopped her._

"_Can anyone help me?"_

_Voices from where she'd run from trickled down the hallway, almost sounding like laughter as they danced down the corridor._

_Her breath came in pants now. Should she keep running? Should she turn back?_

_She looked down at her hands again, at the red that had seeped under her nails and was now becoming a part of her, a part of who she would always be._

xxxxxxxxxxx

Ginny awoke with a gasp and out of habit, looked down at her hands.

They were pale, white against the white of the sheets on her bed, just as they always were when she woke. The pale light of morning, colored by the magnificent stained glass of her window, was just beginning to peek through the normally grey March morning. Blue and green jewels of light danced on the scuffed hardwood floor and Ginny focused on the little triangles of light and tried to slow her heart to normal.

"Ginny?"

Her roommate knocked on the bedroom door and Ginny realized that she must have cried out in her sleep. It was not a common occurrence, but occasionally one of her dreams would be enough to elicit a cry from the darkness that would send Marie skittering down the hallway to Ginny's door.

"Je vais bien, Marie," said Ginny.

"D'Accord."

Soft footfalls retreated back to her own side of the flat. There would be questioning glances over breakfast, raised eyebrows and a gentler touch than normal, but Ginny had conditioned poor Marie to not expect much in the way of explanations about her nocturnal visions.

Ginny swung her feet out of the bed and brushed her toes along the cold floorboards. She arched her back, stretching, and ran her hands over her long hair, a haphazard plait barely holding together after thrashing in bed during the dream.

The jewels of light from her window crept closer and closer to her feet and Ginny watched, mesmerized. She'd loved this flat from the moment she and Marie had found it. And even though the real gem of a bedroom-twice the size as Ginny's and facing the narrow strip of park-was on the other side of the building, the moment Ginny had seen this window, lit with the morning light, Ginny had known this was the place. Even if it wasn't in a magical part of town, it _felt_ magical to her.

Marie thought she was crazy when Ginny claimed the room for herself, but had gladly taken up position in the better room with few questions.

And Ginny loved the cramped, oddly shaped little room that looked out over the busy street where an impromptu Saturday market would often materialize. Ginny didn't mind the hustle and bustle, or even the noise from the cars that would pass. There were hundreds of things to see when she opened her windows wide on a sunny morning, looking past the jewels of glass to the jewels of France beyond the window frame.

In a small way, the room with it's sloped ceiling and dormer window reminded her of the nooks and crannies at the Burrow.

A faint longing swept through her and Ginny, rather than push it away, swam in it for a long minute. She hadn't been back in years, not since the Christmas when she was fourteen. Almost seven years now.

And she'd been living in France for more than ten years. It seemed like a strange sort of dream, like she'd woken in someone else's life and was still not sure if she would ever wake up, or if this was who and what she was now.

With a sigh, she brushed the past away from her mind, tucking it away in the little memory box that she kept hidden away in her mind. Sometimes memories were brilliant, wonderful things, and other times they just brought more hurt.

"Time to get up and moving," she told herself. "Busy day ahead of you, girl, no time to waste frolicking in the past."

These little talks were nothing new; Ginny had grown used to reasoning with herself.

She skipped on tiptoes to the little bathroom off her room, hissing when she found the little hexagon black and white tiles were even colder than the hardwood had been. She flicked her wand at the bathtub, making the water run just a bit too hot.

Another wand flick at the wireless that sat on the ledge near the sink and music filled the room, the hypnotizing sound of a swanky accordion and rich alto voice enticing Ginny to sway. Maybe it was cliche that she still listened to this music, but Ginny found herself drawn into how French it all felt, even after all these years.

She'd gifted an album of her favorites to her mother a few years ago and received a hesitant "thank you, dear, it's lovely" in return. Likely, her mother had never played it on her magical phonograph.

She hummed along to the familiar strains as the bathtub filled, brushing her hair out. A quick glance in the mirror showed the same thing as always-pale skin, sprinkle of freckles that had faded over the years, and always the shock of glowing ginger hair.

"Stop lollygagging, girly, or you'll be late." The magical clock called out from the bedroom and Ginny dropped her pajamas to the floor, dipping her toe into the water and sucking in a breath because it was always too hot. A quick adjustment to the temperature and she stepped fully in. There was something luxurious and carefree about taking a bath instead of a shower, and the old clawfoot tub had drawn Ginny in. She twisted her hair up into a knot high on her head and secured it with her wand, shoving the 10 ½ inch yew through the mess.

She soaked for two whole songs, singing along under her breath and revelling in the stolen moment. She'd pay for it later, but it seemed a little precious opulence to take her time.

When the clock called out "You're frightfully late!" she splashed water on her face-no time to wash her long hair today-and used her toes to pull the chain for the drain plug. As the water gurgled out, Ginny sang over the top of it, pulling on her clothing. A few tricky spells held her hair in place as she straightened her uniform and gave one last glance in the mirror.

"Beautiful, as always, dearie."

She couldn't help but think that the mirror sounded an awful lot like her mother. With a wistful smile, Ginny hurried from the room, gathering odds and ends into her large handbag and snatching her rain jacket off the back of the bedroom door. It was garishly red and clashed horribly with her hair, but Ginny didn't care. It'd felt necessary to purchase when she'd seen it on display in a little boutique last year. And it matched the shiny red Welly's with white polka dots that Ginny had loved-a gift from Charlie, who had said it was a gag, but Ginny had sworn she put a million miles on them over the past few years.

Marie was curled up in a dining room chair, a pink fluffy robe hiding most of her as she sipped at a steaming cup of coffee. Ginny sniffed at the air, her stomach growling at the scent of warm bread and chocolate. Marie worked at a little bakery just down the street and was always whipping out beautiful little creations of butter and flour that threatened to add inches to Ginny's waistline.

"You spoil me!" Ginny huffed. She tried to look stern, but Marie wasn't buying it. The little smirk that peeked out over her coffee cup was enough to set Ginny laughing.

"Take one with you," Marie said in her heavily accented English. The girls spoke a mish-mash of French and English around the flat, having become so comfortable with both that neither remembered when they'd invented their own little way of communicating.

"I'm taking two." Ginny snatched two beautifully round pain au chocolat off the plate and took a sip of the coffee that Marie had waiting at Ginny's usual spot. A spoon lazily twirled a generous helping of sugar into the cup.

"You work tonight?"

"Yeah," Ginny said through a mouthful of warm, melty bread. "Late."

"I will not wait up."

Ginny took one last sip, wincing as the sweet coffee burned the tip of her tongue. "You are evil," she said with a wink. She shoved her feet into the boots that waited by the door.

Marie just laughed again and shrugged her shoulder. "I try my best."

Outside the door, Madam Beaulieu's cat was waiting. It gave a long meow and wound around Ginny's red rubber boots, tail held regaly high.

"Bonjour, mon minou." The cat paused as Ginny gave it a little scratch behind the ears, and then went on about it's business, whatever that might be. It was always around, a black and grey striped little thing that was forever getting into mischief in some way or another. Madam Beaulieu was always calling up for one of the girls to rescue Lafayette from some high place he'd gotten himself stuck in.

She skipped down the stairs, listening for Madam Beaulieu's wireless, which played horribly loud at all times of the day. Some sort of soap opera was being broadcast through the walls of her landlady's flat and Ginny smiled as Reginald and Helene exchanged passionate and heated words with each other.

"Same old storyline," Ginny muttered to herself.

Outside it was still sunny and Ginny peered up at the blue, knowing it would not last. It was March, and prone to afternoon rain and a chill that would wrap the city by evening. But, for now, Ginny was happy to see the robin's egg sky.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle!"

Several people along the road called out to Ginny as she peddled her yellow bicycle along toward work. She gave them all waves and let the charmed pedals lift her legs as she steered the bike. Her father would probably scold her for charming it, but Ginny couldn't help herself. There were days when she needed to get from one end of the city to another and Apparition was terribly inconvenient in France. SHe had her license, but finding the accepted Apparition points was not always easy nor timely when one was trying to balance two jobs. Plus, Ginny enjoyed the rides.

She turned toward the river, breathing deeply the scents of Paris waking-rich coffee, baking bread, car exhaust, and so much more. The bike picked up speed, it's charms obscuring her as she pretended to peddle onward. At a stop for the train, Ginny waited patiently balancing on her bike, and finished off the final pastry that Marie had made. A drip of chocolate slipped down onto her chin and Ginny laughed as the train pulled into the small station. She cleaned herself up and glanced up, surprised to catch a flash of someone watching her as the train began to move forward again.

The person had dark hair and a pale face. Ginny thought she'd seen eyeglasses, too, but decided that it was her imagination. But for the briefest moment, she could have sworn it was Harry Potter-much older now than the last time she'd seen him-in that window.

"Silly girl," she said as she settled onto her bike once more and peddled over the tracks. The train was chugging down the track, gaining speed as it headed through Paris and out into the French countryside. "There's no way Harry Potter is here in France. And there's no way he'd even recognize you, anyway."

She looked nothing like she had when she was eleven years old. It was likely not even Harry, anyway. Loads of people had dark hair and wore glasses.

"It's just the nightmare," Ginny assured herself as she moved down the streets toward her first job of the day. "It's got you all spooked. But it's time to find a little nerve, Ginny-girl. You've got a long day ahead of you. No need to have ghosts along for the ride."

The pep-talk seemed to work and Ginny concentrated on steering the bike toward the offices of Vauqueline and Deniau Voyages, where she worked as a Magical Travel Guide. There was a little shed behind the back of the storefront where she could park her bike. Monsieur Deniau had charmed the entire area to prevent thefts, since the agency stored their signs and various other possessions back there occasionally. He'd generously offered the spot to Ginny for leaving her precious bicycle when she'd begun working for the two old men who were too old to lead their tours any longer.

"Bonjour, Ginny!" Monsieur Vauqueline greeted her from his desk, where he sat perusing the magical morning newspaper. Ginny glanced at the headlines, but decided she wasn't interested enough in finding out more about (headline) to even ask.

"Bonjour, Monsieur." She hung up her slicker and hung her bag on the hook provided.

"Two tours lined up today," her boss informed her. "One to the Muggle buildings with Magical histories, and one to the catacombs."

Ginny shuddered at the thought of descending down into the belly of Paris. It was a popular tour, though, and she'd done it more than she liked to think about. The cold, dank tunnels always reminded her of the Chamber…

"Bien, Monsieur." She set about charming the coffee pot, even though her boss had been into the office for hours now. He always claimed that Ginny made better coffee than he did, and allowed her to wait on him. She might have squawked, but he was a harmless old man who reminded her of her Grandfather Weasley when she'd been young, so she allowed him to boss her around far more than anyone else got away with.

"You spoil an old man," he said with a wink when she delivered his first cup. As always, he sipped at it, smacked his lips, sipped once more, then hummed in satisfaction. "Best get on with your work, Ginny."

She nearly rolled her eyes at his predictability, but sighed instead and set about getting the office ready for the day. Monsieur Deniau was a late riser and never made an appearance until after her morning tour, so she didn't bother to prepare any coffee for him. He never drank it anyway. He was nearly ninety, but still full of energy and life. He might have led the tours-he was a veritable treasure trove of information about Magical Paris-but he was too prone to flights of fancy and often led the tourists off their planned paths to unknown and exotic locations. Vauqueline had had to deal with a few irate parents when their children would vanish for days at a time, off on one of Deniau's excursions. For the sake of the partnership, it was decided that Ginny and Louis, Vauqueline's grandson, would lead the guided tours unless someone particularly adventurous inquired.

The early tour was a group of elderly American ladies who were on some sort of wild holiday without their spouses or children. They chatted all through Ginny's tour of Nicholas Flamel's home, and the site of the 1927 Circus Arcanus, and even raised their voices to talk over Ginny's explanation of Lisette de Lapin trial for witchcraft in 1422. Ginny would have been horribly annoyed, but the five ladies were just so darned funny, gossiping along about the things they'd seen, and hoped to see, on their magical tour of Europe.

In the end, they were most excited by Ginny's stories of the building of the Eiffel Tower and how it never would have been accomplished without magical help, and how it was charmed to twinkle for a few minutes each hour-a side effect of the French government asking for magical help to light the iconic structure. The ladies promised to watch when Ginny told them too, but declined her offer of another tour-a broom ride right up to the top of the tower to see it up close and personal in the dark.

When she finally made her way back to the office, after refusing to join the ladies for drinks, Ginny remembered that she had the catacombs tour coming up. Dread filled her as the visions from her latest nightmare came rushing back.

Louis was in the office, having just gotten out of class. He was perched behind their shared desk, a mountain of books hiding his face. Ginny purposely knocked one over, just to see him adjust his glasses and glare at her through them.

"Take my 2 pm tour for me?" she asked, prepared to beg, if necessary.

Louis' eyebrow rose and she took a moment to admire just how good looking he was, in a horribly bookish sort of way. She was reminded of a mixture of Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. Louis might be good looking, but he was horribly shy with girls, especially, and completely socially awkward. However, he made a great tour guide because he knew almost as much about Magical France as his grandfather and Monsieur Deniau.

"Catacombs?"

Ginny grimaced. "You know how much I hate them. Please? I'll take...two of the next flying ones they've booked you on."

Louis contemplated that. He hated to fly and was horribly awkward on those tours because he was always worried he would fall off.

"Three."

"Deal."

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, making the seventeen-year-old blush spectacularly. When the tour arrived, Ginny went out of her way to make sure that Louis got off alright, and then even spent a few minutes organizing the books-Louis' job-before saying her goodbye to Monsieur Daniau and peddling back toward her flat and the small magical cafe where she often picked up extra shifts just to make ends meet. She'd prefer to work exclusively for the touring agency, but the flat was so expensive, and Ginny had a bad habit of shopping that needed the extra funds waiting tables could add to her bank account. She arrived just before the dinner rush and dove into the fray, helping seat diners and take their orders, ignoring the few pinches she got on the backside when wizards at the bar got a little too frisky. Only once she'd been forced to escort someone to the sidewalk and the entire place had cheered her on as she leveled a spectacular bat bogey hex at the handsy wizard. He'd never returned again.

The night was busy and Ginny'd forgotten to even take a moment to eat, so she was ravenous when she returned home. Marie was out and the flat was dark and silent. Even little Lafayette had found another place to be when Ginny turned the key in her door.

"Welcome home, Ginny," she sighed as she kicked her boots off and hung up her rain slicker. It never had rained, even though it had threatened all day.

"Maybe tomorrow will be just as good.

She grabbed the last pain au chocolat that Marie had left on the table and curled up on the sofa, wrapping around a multi-colored afghan-a flat warming gift from her mother-and dozed off to sleep.

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Author's Note: Hello. Thank you for reading. I had so much fun writing my first story and I appreciate the kind words of everyone in the reviews. The main idea behind Pub Nights kept sticking in my head and I wanted to explore it and try to write my first longer story. Some things may seem familiar, if you read Pub Nights, but some things will be changed, too. Please let me know what you think of the chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A paper airplane circled above, skimming along the surface of the ceiling occasionally which made it change trajectory. Eventually, it would come floating down where someone would snatch it and either file it, toss it, or direct it to the place it was supposed to go in the first place. It was all horribly inefficient, in Harry's mind, but he'd grown used to the way the Ministry worked over the past few years of working there.

The office was quiet for the moment and Harry leaned back in his chair, wincing when his back popped loudly. He was only twenty-two, but some days he felt so much older.

The office was a familiar clutter of piles and odd things tucked here and there. It looked similar to the first time he'd ever seen it, in his fifth year, but somehow there always seemed to be a steady stream of _stuff_ that disappeared into every nook and cranny. Harry supposed that's just how it was with magic. And his partner seemed to know where everything was, or at least had a decent idea of where to begin looking.

It seemed strange to say that he had a partner, even though he'd spent so many of his years with Ron and Hermione at his side. This, however, was different.

After defeating Voldemort, Harry'd been offered his pick of positions at the Ministry. Kingsley had offered to walk him through Auror training personally, but something had made him hold back. The year of chasing clues, hiding from Death Eaters and Snatchers, and fighting for his life had drained any desire for being an Auror.

Ron'd suggested trying out for a Quidditch team, but Harry hadn't been sure that he could really spend his time playing a game while everyone was working to rebuild the Wizarding World.

Hermione had suggested a Muggle University, like she was attending, to broaden his education. But Harry was tired of studying.

When Arthur had casually joked that he could use a new associate in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, Harry's interest had been piqued. He'd never seen himself in the position, honestly, but he and Arthur seemed to work together well. The atmosphere in their office was casual and very rarely stressful, which Harry appreciated. And there were cases that came up that honestly baffled him.

It was the mystery in it all that had him completely enraptured with his job, even three years after he'd taken the position, more out of loyalty to Arthur than anything else. He'd spent enough time-wasting after leaving Hogwarts, and it was time to get on with his life, or at least that's what Hermione kept telling him.

Another airplane joined the first one, but Harry noticed it was a golden color, meant for the Office of Magical Transportation.

"Be off," he told it. "Get to the right place, you ruddy thing."

It hesitated before ducking back out through the window at the top of the door and disappearing down the hallway.

The sound of the door opening made Harry turn in his chair. They rarely got visitors in their cramped little office, but occasionally one of the Weasleys or Hermione would drop by to say hello and lecture Harry about how he was letting his hair grow too long, or hadn't been out with the boys for a drink in too long.

This time, however, it was Arthur who backed into the office, a large cardboard box of something balancing precariously in his arms.

Harry jumped to his feet and scooted around to help balance the box.

"Look what Smithson in Sports gave me!" Arthur's cheeks were flushed as he wrestled the box onto his desk, causing a cascade of files to slide to the floor in a sort of paper avalanche.

Harry was afraid to even look. Smithson was always coming across strange things on his days off and foisting them off onto their office.

"Are they charmed?"

"No idea." Arthur beamed as he clapped his hands and rubbed them together in anticipation. "Shall we see?"

Harry fingered his wand, just in case, as Arthur lifted back the flaps of the box with a flourish. He hummed in appreciation and cast a few charms of his own, looking for anything of danger, before reaching in.

"Goodness," he sighed. "What will these Muggles come up with next?"

The mass of wires and plastic parts that he pulled out baffled Harry, until he saw the last piece dangling at the end of the line.

"Now what do you suppose…"

"It's a processor for credit cards," Harry said. He leaned down and lifted the plastic transmitter and, pointing to the part where one would swipe their card. "Muggles put money in their banks, then the banks give them pieces of plastic called credit cards. When they want to make a purchase, they run the card through this and it transfers the money from their account to the store."

It might have been a simplistic answer, but Harry'd tried to explain the concept of credit to Ron before with little luck. Somehow, he didn't think Arthur would understand much better.

"Where did Smithson say he found this?"

"Said some Muggle tossed it out-Smithson likes to go digging through their rubbish bins. He saw the tangle of wires and thought it might be something we'd better look into."

"Not much here, I'm afraid," said Harry. "No unusual charms or hexes associated with it," he murmured as he ran the usual diagnostic scans. There was a faint trace of magic that showed up and Harry wondered about that. It was possible that Smithson had attempted his own amateur magical scans and that had left the residue. Harry pondered over that as Arthur began trying to untangle the wires, becoming horribly entangled himself.

"Anything new come in while I was gone?"

"Nothing important," said Harry. He sat back down at his desk and watched, amused.

"Well, if there's nothing wrong with this, perhaps I'll just take it-"

"No taking anything more home," Harry warned.

Arthur huffed, but they shared a smile. With Harry safely in place as Arthur's partner, Molly had put her foot down that there were to be no more Muggle artifacts brought back to the Burrow or smuggled into Arthur's shop under the guise of research. Harry agreed, begrudgingly, but kept his mouth shut about the small stash of hidden items residing in his own closet at home-some of Arthur's pet projects that were to be kept completely hush-hush from his wife.

"But-"

"Nothing more."

Arthur seemed to sag in resignation, but finally nodded his head. Harry might have laughed, but there was just so much blasted affection between the two Weasley parents that even if Molly caught him bringing home the entire office, she'd yell a little and then give in, banishing the entire lot to the shed.

And all of it had been harmless so far.

Well, except for that one charmed walking cane that had been smacking everyone in the shins. But that was safely hidden away under Ron's bed, unbeknownst to him. One day, he would find it and receive a swift knock in the shins for all of his teasing of Harry.

"Dinner tonight at the Burrow," Arthur murmured as he kept on working with the wires. He'd told Harry already half a dozen times, and it was a standard invitation that Harry never turned down, but, apparently, Arthur felt it needed to be vocalized.

"Yeah. I'll be there. Thanks."

They went on about their day, working-mostly Harry-on a few existing cases and chatting about this and that. It was not a remarkable day, but Harry was content with having boring days occasionally. For so many years, he'd wished for a boring day. He did enjoy the days when he and Arthur would be called out to work on a mystery or two, but routine was what Harry had been craving.

And, he felt, in some small way, he was still making a difference in the Wizarding world, helping keep charmed objects out of the hands of people they would harm, helping heal the rift between Magical and Muggle, just the smallest bit. Plus, he was still active in the Order of the Phoenix when needed.

xxxxx

The Burrow was a welcome sight later that evening. The windows were all lit when Harry apparated to the designated spot and walked through the mucky March mud toward the house. It was warm and inviting, and filled with the sounds that Harry loved the most.

He was greeted as usual, with handshakes, back slaps, and a few kisses on the cheek, and settled right into place laughing with his friends, pinching Teddy's round cheeks, and just enjoying being included.

Ron and Hermione were there-Hermione being grilled by Arthur about the university life. George had brought Angelina, whom he had just started dating, again. Harry tried not to think too much of it, since they had a fairly volatile relationship and were generally on-again, off-again. He never really knew which it was, so Harry'd gotten used to keeping his mouth shut.

Tonks was there with Teddy, which was not unusual since she'd been spending more and more time with Bill over the past year or so. Harry wanted to be bothered by the strange relationship, but he'd found that he really couldn't. After Remus' death, Tonks had been inconsolable and it was Bill, freshly broken up with his girlfriend, Fleur, who had stepped up to make sure that Tonks and Teddy were taken care of.

Mrs. Weasley did her best to fatten Harry up, as always, by having him taste a bit of everything she'd made and chatting away with him like always. She tended to repeat herself often, sharing the same stories over and over, but Harry patiently nodded along, simply thrilled that she was able to talk at all. There was a time just after the war that he wasn't sure she would recover. After Fred's death and the battle at Hogwarts, Molly had slipped into a deep depression and it had been months, if not more than a year, before he'd started to see some of the old life in his beloved Mrs. Weasley again. Her hair was now completely white, and she often carried a deep shadow of sadness with her that Harry understood all too well.

"You're such a love," she said with a hand laid along his cheek. "What would we ever do without you?"

"You'd manage just fine," Harry said as his face heated.

A moment passed between them while they looked at each other. Harry had to look away first. He couldn't stand to see the tears gather in her eyes or the deep longing that he could never hope to fill. Two sons and a daughter lost over the years, even if not in the same way.

"Dad got you running all over England this week?" Ron asked when Harry finally excused himself from the kitchen and Molly's tasty offers.

"Nah. Boring week."

"Blimey, Harry, that smile just never goes away, does it?"

"Leave off." Harry laughed and nudged Ron for teasing him.

"I still don't understand it, but if the job makes you happy."

"It does."

"Alright."

"Hermione doing well?"

Ron rolled his eyes at his girlfriend, but his smile was wider than Harry'd ever seen it. "Yeah. Fine. She's a nutter."

"Nothing unusual, then."

They shared a laugh and chatted about their favorite Quidditch teams and who would come out on top during the next season.

When they sat down to dinner, Harry felt a wave of sadness wash over him for the missing places at the table. There had been a time just after the war that he'd struggled with blaming himself for those empty spots. They'd all been drawn into the war because of him.

That's not right, he told himself, again. The Weasley's would have fought oppression and tyranny all on their own.

And Ginny...well, she had made her own choices.

"Let's eat!"

Arthur's words broke him from his dark thoughts and Harry dug in, trying to remember to smile more and laugh a little louder, in hopes that it might help this family heal just a little bit more.

Xxxxx

"Arthur was telling me that you found a credit card processing machine?"

Later, after dinner had settled low in his belly, making Harry surreptitiously unbutton his jeans under his robes, Ron, Hermione and Harry were lounging in Harry's flat. They'd exhausted the subject of Quidditch, but that didn't stop Ron from nattering on about it.

"Yeah. Not much to it," said Harry. "A source of ours brought it in. There may be some magic involved, but I haven't taken the time to really check. Arthur was busy trying to convince me to let him bring it home."

They all shared a fond smile and Harry lay his head along the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. There was a bit of melancholy that still danced along the edges of his mind, and he couldn't seem to dismiss it easily tonight.

"There was a story in the London paper just the other day about shops who had been overcharging customers by only a pound or two," said Hermione. Her brow furrowed as she thought about it more. "I just glanced at it, honestly, didn't really read it through."

"You didn't read it?" Ron asked, receiving a smirk from Harry and a soft slap from Hermione.

"They thought it was something to do with the machines. And the shops themselves never collected the extra money. They were able to prove that much, but they never found where the money was going."

"I thought you didn't read it," Harry said.

"Oh, shut it, you! I skimmed the story," said Hermione. "But nothing in depth."

"Ah."

"You think there's something to it, then?" Harry sat forward, more interested now as the idea rattled around his brain.

"I'm not sure," said Hermione.

"Do you still have the article?"

"Probably. I can send it to you when I get home."

Harry nodded. If there was something involved, even if it was just the chance of something, he'd feel better if he checked it out, at least.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you were so gone over Muggles," Ron said with a chuckle. "It's like you're really becoming one of Dad's sons."

Harry beamed at him. "That might be the best compliment you've ever paid me, mate."

"I didn't necessarily mean it to be one."

"Ronald!"

Ron flushed and stammered. "I mean...I suppose… It's just that none of us ever saw what Dad saw in all of that...stuff, you know."

"That's why we fought, Ron," Hermione said waspishly.

"So that Harry and Dad could muck around with Muggle artifacts all day?"

"She's right," said Harry. "So that we could show that we're not all that different, and certainly not better to them simply because of what we can do. Plus, you forget that I grew up Muggle-"

"Of course, I didn't forget-"

"-so I know quite a lot about Muggle artifacts."

Ron huffed and ran his hand through his hair. "I didn't mean… I just meant that I always saw you as more of an Auror type, you know, more action than sitting behind a desk at the Ministry all day."

"He leaves the Ministry!"

"I'm not stuck there," said Harry as Hermione defended him also. "I go out loads more than you would think. Your Dad isn't as young as he once was, and while he loves to get out and get his hands dirty with stuff, it's usually me that is out tracking down the leads and trying to figure out what's going on with it. And maybe I'm not an Auror, the way we used to talk about, but I really like my job. It's…" Harry trailed off, trying to find the right words for what he felt. "It may have started out as a favor to your Dad, but I've found that I really do like it. It's like a puzzle, at times. And the magic is damned harder than some of the stuff I'd be doing as an Auror. For the most part, I'm doing about the same stuff, I just don't usually get hexed on a daily basis."

His friends just looked at him, blinking. Harry thought back over what he'd said and couldn't find anything that should have made them goggle at him like they were.

"What?"

"That was very eloquent, Harry," said Hermione. She sounded sort of choked up and Harry sputtered.

"I've just been thinking about it, that's all."

"I know I take the piss," said Ron over Hermione's protests of his use of profanity, "but I really do appreciate that you're there for Dad. He had a rough couple of years there with Mum. Some of us weren't sure he was going to be able to go back to work, you know."

Harry nodded. He remembered too well those dark days after the war when they'd all been struggling with the demons that had come along with Voldemort's rise and fall. The Weasley's had been dealing with a fair lot of loss already, and Fred's death had sent Molly spiraling.

"Enough," Hermione said. She shook her head, probably releasing her own sad memories. "No more talk of the past. Only good things tonight."

"Whad'ya wanna talk about, then?" Ron asked as he pulled Hermione to lean into his side.

"What we're going to do when the weather warms up," Hermione said, pleasantly.

"Whatever it is you're planning," said Harry, "don't invite me. I've seen far too much of both of you over the years to-"

"Harry!"

He laughed when Hermione tried to throw a pillow at him and missed.

Xxxxx

Hermione did send the article from the London newspaper and Harry read it time and time again, trying to find where the connection was. When he went into the Ministry the next day it was with a new determination to figure out if the machine they had was connected to any of this mess.

Smithson gave him the exact address that he'd found the machine in the rubbish bin and Harry planned to visit the store this afternoon, once he brought Arthur up to speed.

"I think I'd like to go with you this time, Harry," said Arthur as they dismantled the machine and found evidence of magical tampering. "There's still a bit you need to learn about tracking this type of magic."

If it had been anyone else who said that to him, Harry would have bristled and probably argued, but with Arthur there was an undertone of protection and fatherly affection there that Harry could find no fault with.

"Okay. I'll file the report with the Aurors so that they are on alert if we need something."

Arthur nodded. "Tonks is on duty. It'll be enough to let her know."

Xxxxx

Hours later, they had walked miles all over London, tracing a dodgy credit card merchant who had been signing small businesses up for his services over the past several months. Curiously, not all of the businesses seemed to have been hit with the additional fees charged to their customers. It was rather hit or miss, which was confusing in itself.

"I can't make heads or tails of this, can you, Harry?" Arthur nudged his hat to sit on the back of his bald head and scratched at the edge of it, a nervous habit.

Harry looked down at their notes, trying to see any sort of pattern that would enlighten them to what was going on. Each of the machines they had examined showed the same faint traces of magic. Harry-claiming to be a repairman-had removed the tracing spells and made copies of the store documentation showing the additional charges. He'd promised each shop owner that the charges would be looked into and possibly refunded while Arthur worked his magic with subtle memory charms. They hated to deceive the shop owners, but with no way yet to track whoever was magically altering their equipment, there was no way to return any money.

Twenty-five stops later, the sun was beginning to set and they had a good idea of what the scam was, just not who was behind it. Harry was annoyed and Arthur was not making the situation better by peppering Harry with questions that they had no way of answering just yet.

Tonks was waiting in their office when they walked in.

"I set a locking charm," Harry said with a scowl.

"Pssh. Locking charm," TOnks said. "Amateur. I could break those with my eyes closed now."

"Too much time with Bill," said Arthur with a knowing glance and a waggle of his eyebrows.

Tonks blushed, making Harry laugh. "Did you blokes find anything interesting?"

"Yes and no." He sat down and wondered if removing his shoes to rub his tired feet would be too rude in front of her. But then he remembered that she and Teddy had been having a huge belching contest the last time he'd come to visit them. So, he slipped his trainers off and sent a spell toward his aching feet to massage them while he talked.

"We found the basic idea. You know how credit cards work?" Tonks nodded, so Harry continued. "We think someone posing as a merchant services provider is putting a spell on each machine to capture the card information each time it is swiped or entered-"

"Brilliant idea," Arthur said, "but horribly illegal and misguided."

"And they take small bits of money here or there, nothing ever too large to attract too much attention."

"And before you know it…"

A light went on in Tonks' countenance. "Millions of pounds stolen. Cor. That's right brilliant, and scary as hell."

"Right."

Harry shook his head. "And he's smart, too, because we can't seem to find any common pattern. We walked all over London today and found dozens of shops that he's signed up, but not all of them are having the information stolen."

"Maybe he does it in waves," she said, "as a way to allay suspicion."

"I thought about that, too," said Harry. "I got copies of all of the records." He pulled what looked to be a small, handheld notebook from his pocket, enlarging it as he set it on the desk. Piles and piles of paperwork were there. "It'll take me forever to get through."

"Have Hermione do it for you," Tonks said with a smirk. "She'll have it all indexed, cross-referenced, and categorized for you in an hour."

"You don't know how much I would love to," said Harry, "but she doesn't have the clearance for this."

They trailed off, lost in their thoughts. Harry was imagining spending the next few weeks trying to make heads or tails of the mass of numbers contained in the paperwork.

"Well, while you blokes were out pounding the pavement, I took a walk down to the boys in the International Magical Cooperation offices. What you told me made me wonder if this was a one-off, or if other countries have dealt with something similar."

"Slow day at Auror Headquarters?" Harry asked. He flexed his toes in his socks and then stuffed his feet back into his shoes.

"Exactly. Plus, you two get some pretty interesting cases, if I do say so myself. Anyway, I asked them if they'd seen anything like this before. They started digging through their archives of news stories."

Arthur nearly climbed over the desk, he was so excited. "And what did they find?"

"A similar set of circumstances in Paris, and one in Berlin. It seems this person might be hitting all of Europe's major cities for a few months at a time, hoping to remain lost in the sheer numbers of Muggles."

"But it's not a Muggle," Harry said. "My guess is a Muggleborn, or a wizard with much more knowledge of Muggle artifacts than the usual. He'd have to, to be able to still let the computer systems work with the magic. It's such a subtle spell. Impressive, really."

All three of them shared a look.

"I guess that means I'm going to France and Germany."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"_You'll want to pack layers."_

"_And don't use a translation spell. They always mess things up and you'll end up saying the wrong thing to the wrong person and getting yourself into trouble."_

"_On the continent, they don't allow free apparition just anywhere. There are certain checkpoints that you need to use. Most Magical people still use public transportation."_

"_Just take the train."_

"_Your first stop should be to exchange your money, which you can do there at the Ministry, at least for small amounts."_

Hermione's advice for Harry-a novice world traveler-was still ringing in his ears as Harry packed his things and prepared to be gone for a few days, or even a few weeks, depending on what he discovered in France and Germany about the credit card theft scam.

When Harry'd told his friends he was going, Hermione had immediately begun organizing his travel plans, pulling out maps and lecturing him on every nuance of travel. Ron had stoically watched it all, a strange look in his eye. Harry hadn't had the chance to quiz him about it before he needed to leave. His international portkey was set for a specific time and Tonks had arranged the first one she could get for him, leaving him only hours to pack.

Arthur walked him to the International Portkey Office. He was unusually quiet, and the same sort of look was in his eyes as had been in Ron's.

"Be safe, Harry," he'd warned softly as they waited for the portkey to activate. "And…" He trailed off and shook his head, looking away. There was a palpable sadness to his expression.

"I'll be back soon," Harry promised with a half-smile. Arthur only nodded. He opened his mouth to say one more thing, but the portkey activated, pulling Harry with a violent jerk behind his navel.

Xxxxx

The French Ministry was nothing like the British one, Harry noted once he'd arrived and been thoroughly checked through-even his baggage had been searched, his underpants waived about as they searched for who knew what. Merlin!

It had high, gothic ceilings and massive chandeliers that drooped down over patterned tile floors. In truth, it looked like some sort of old ballroom turned into offices. The doorways were intricately carved and the glass rotunda in the middle with green inlaid stained glass images of witches and wizards dancing in circles made Harry's head spin.

After he'd gained his entrance, Harry'd headed to the currency exchange desk, just as Hermione had said. He used the book she'd given him of helpful phrases and butchered his way through getting a few hundred galleons changed. The witch behind the counter had been flirtatious, but Harry believed he'd missed most of the context because his ears simply couldn't keep up with how fast she spoke the language.

A brusque Ministry liaison with the French version of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office waddled toward him. Harry tried not to smile at the sight of the round, short man. He looked like a bowling ball with wee legs that had to move twice as fast just to keep up with those around him. A flash in his mind replaced Dudley's face with the French man's scowling one and Harry bit his lip to hold in a laugh.

"Apparition here is not-"

"Yes, I know," Harry said. The man did not appreciate being interrupted in his heavily accenting French, and Harry vowed to seal his own lips rather than earn another huff through the man's nose in his direction.

"Here is a map that give you the locations of the apparition points. Do not use apparition anywhere other than these places. You would not want to earn a fine while here in our country, Monsieur. The amount is large."

Harry nodded and tucked the paper map away in the inside pocket of his robes.

"The Germans have requested that you travel there first-"

Harry opened his mouth to protest. He'd planned to start in France, as that was where the more promising leads seemed to be based.

"-so I have booked you on the first possible train. I presume you do not mind traveling by train. The English seem to understand it."

He bit his lip and nodded curtly. "Train is fine."

"It is not a sleeper car. They were booked."

"How long is the journey?"

"Nearly nine hours." There was a little nasty curve of a smile and Harry narrowed his eyes at the man, but let it go.

The prospect of sitting in one place for that long, unable to use magic in front of dozens of Muggles, all by himself, was not one that Harry was looking forward to, but he supposed there wasn't much for it. He could use the time to plan out the questions he needed to ask the German Ministry and shop keepers.

"Thank you for your help."

"Your Ministry has been sent the bill." Before Harry could reply, the little round man scurried away, his legs reminding Harry of a centipede. Harry didn't bother to hold in a smirk.

Harry had less than thirty minutes before he had to catch the train, but it was only two blocks away. He'd have time to find a place to grab breakfast. He hadn't bothered eating this morning, anticipating that the portkey travel might just make him nauseous.

The day was brisk, but clear and Harry followed the little paper map, watching the arrows that flashed along his route while keeping one eye open for some sort of place to grab food. Casually, he noticed that he couldn't seem to figure out what the symbol for the apparition sites were, nor what he should even look for as he walked. A small café caught his eye and he glanced at his pocket watch, "Plenty of time, love" before ducking inside.

The smell of warm bread, pungent cheeses, and rich coffee assaulted his nose and Harry breathed in deep, smiling when his stomach grumbled. He bashed his way through another round of French, earning some giggles from the two girls who took his order, and walked away with some sort of pastry, fruit, and questionable looking cheese tucked into a bag. A steaming cup of coffee was handed to him with a cheeky wink by the woman who rang him up. Harry paid a little too much and tried to relax.

The train was overheated and noisy, filled with teenagers chatting in large groups, businessmen carrying on loud conversations on their mobile phones, and people who, for the most part, ignored Harry completely. When he asked an attendant, he was told that the journey would be closer to ten hours, since there were stops to be made.

Harry could only nod in understanding since he didn't think the few French swear words he knew would go over well.

Rather than dig into his research-he had plenty of time, after all-Harry watched Paris pass him by, his eyes traveling over the architecture and noting how different it was from London. Although, there were places where the ancient buildings and statues sat right alongside the modern, just like in London, there seemed to be a different sort of feel about it.

He began watching the people when the train would stop or slow, imagining their stories, where they were going, what they were setting about to do that day. Were any of them magical, and could he tell just by looking at them?

One bloke, he picked out for sure. He was wearing a floral pattern kilt with the hairiest legs Harry had ever seen, bright green suspenders over a garish and clashing orange shirt, all covered by some sort of clear plastic sheeting meant to keep him from the rain. He seemed to be talking to himself as he walked back and forth across the station platform. He stopped just outside Harry's window and gaped at him. Harry shifted and pulled his fringe down lower, wondering how darkened the windows were and if he would be recognized anywhere he went. But then the man moved on and gaped at the empty window next to Harry, as well, which made Harry feel a bit better.

At the next station, the train only slowed to a crawl, but didn't stop completely. A mass of people was waiting to cross the tracks and Harry let his eyes trace over them. A flash of bright red caught his eye and he swallowed as he saw the beautiful young woman wearing the red rain slicker. She was astride a bright yellow bicycle and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the food she was eating. It dripped onto her chin and she laughed, her smile brightening Harry's world for just that moment. Her pale face looked up at the train and he thought he saw something he recognized, but it was gone too fast, slipping away as the train picked up speed. Harry turned and knelt on his seat, trying to keep focused on the woman.

Could it have been?

Harry knew that she lived in Paris, or somewhere around there. Ron had said something to that effect when he'd been over here searching for some rare potions ingredients for George and the shop.

He scowled, trying to remember the details. But Ron had not come home happy. In fact, he was quite annoyed, even angry, with Ginny. Harry wasn't sure what had passed between the siblings, but Ron rarely spoke about Ginny, and when anyone did, he'd get a crease in his forehead and that same strange look in his eye that he'd had when Harry'd left England.

Ginny Weasley was nearly a complete mystery to Harry. After the nasty mess with the Chamber and Percy...well, the Weasleys had decided to send her abroad for school.

Ron had fought the decision tooth and nail, even going so far as to yell at both of his parents. Harry, stuck at Privet Drive, had felt horrible at the whole situation and kept mentally retracing his steps all year to figure out what they could have done to help Ginny sooner, and so that it meant that Percy didn't have to…

He shook his head. That was more than ten years ago now, but there were still parts that hurt, as if the wounds had never closed right.

Ginny had come home once for Christmas, but Harry had stayed at Grimmauld Place with Sirius instead of visiting the Burrow. He'd felt bad, but in hindsight, it was the only Christmas he'd had with Sirius, so he couldn't regret it.

He'd always expected that after her schooling finished, that Ginny would come home. He'd been surprised when she didn't even come home for Fred's funeral. There was something he was missing, he was sure, some undercurrent of the Weasley family that, as an outsider, he wasn't completely privy to. He'd certainly never thought Ginny a selfish person, not when he'd known her, anyway, but he couldn't help thinking her actions were a bit self-serving.

Bah. It was all a moot point, anyway. Harry was headed to Berlin, and the idea that he'd seen Ginny in a city of more than two million people was absurd.

The entire rest of the trip, Harry could not get the image of Arthur's expression as he left out of his head. There was a deep, aching sadness there that Harry thought he understood far too well.

Xxxxx

Berlin had been an eye-opening experience. Their Auror squad had been aware that Harry was coming-probably more of Tonks' doing-and had prepared an entire room of documents for him. He'd only spent two days there, making case notes and looking for patterns. Whoever this was had likely started here, as the operation was far more rudimentary and less sophisticated.

"Unfortunately, we were not able to catch this person before they moved on to another city. We believe they are traveling to allay suspicion," said the Auror who had put Harry back on another train (this one a few hours faster) to Paris.

"Makes sense," Harry had said. He'd shrunk down several boxes of copied documents and tucked them away in his luggage before shaking the Auror's hand and boarding the train.

The same spherical French man was waiting for him at the Ministry, wearing the same scowl on his pompous face. He was not at all delighted to see Harry, and even less thrilled when Harry informed him that he wanted to visit a few of the shops where the thefts had occurred.

"This is not the way we work, Monsieur Potter. In France, the Aurors are the ones to-"

Harry's patience was worn thin. "You promised full cooperation, Mr. Lefurgey. Now, am I going to get that, or do I need to speak with your boss?"

Rising color filled the man's face as he spluttered and shifted about. "Full cooperation," he finally said. For the first time, Harry was glad that his name added a bit of weight to his position. They might make things difficult for him, but all Harry had to do was make a phone call to the press and the French Ministry would be dealing with all sorts of unwanted attention. It was clear to Harry that Lefurgey was under orders to keep Harry happy.

"Here is the list," Lefurgey said in a clipped tone. "I will not be going with you. And we can spare no Aurors at this time."

"That's just fine with me."

Lefurgey spun on his heel, leaving Harry standing alone in the middle of the ballroom-like atrium.

Harry looked down at the list. Everything in the case was all in French and Harry could only pick out a few words and phrases that he knew. "This is going to take awhile," he muttered. He asked for a room to work and was begrudgingly led to a small space dominated by filing cabinets that opened and closed by themselves as a flurry of paper flowed in the windows and filed away in the correct places.

The noise and movement was a distraction, but Harry did his best to try and decipher as much as he could with Hermione's book before he resorted to a translation spell on the papers. A few more words came into focus and Harry thought that he probably had enough to at least begin searching. This was Paris, surely they were used to tourists who spoke little to no French at all, right?

He set out on foot using the map that he'd been given before to guide him to the first two shops. A light drizzle fell around him, but the people he passed seem unfazed by it all. He knew there was a magical area of Paris, but was unsure where exactly it began and ended. His map was little help there. He'd have to find another way to figure it out. Perhaps one of the cute receptionists at the Ministry could be persuaded…. No. That just felt...wrong.

Frustrated and worn out, Harry returned a few hours later to the first café he'd visited and actually sat to have a meal. One of the waitresses knew a few of the addresses on his list and gave him passable directions, along with slipping her number written on a piece of paper into his hand.

Harry'd blushed for long minutes and debated the morals of simply throwing it away. He waited until he was several blocks away before doing so. Things like that happened occasionally, but it made Harry very uncomfortable. He was pants with girls and always had been. He'd been on several dates in his past that had all be unmitigated disasters, staring with his Hogwarts-era crush on Cho Chang. In fact, he was so hopeless in the romance department that even Ron had stopped teasing him about it.

The first shop had welcomed him in, the shop owner winding her arm with his and talking a mile a minute once he'd shown her his credentials give to him by Lefurgey. He'd worked out that it proclaimed him as some vague member of the press somehow. It made him uncomfortable, but it seemed to be opening doors to him that might otherwise be closed if he said he was some sort of investigator.

Madam Roussel, who reminded him of Professor Trelawney with her bulging eyes hidden behind thick eyeglasses and wild hair, told Harry all about the horrible mistake the bank had made in overcharging her customers. It was a conspiracy, she assured him, as her friend who had a shop across town had been dealing with the same thing, and they'd heard of others, too. Somehow the French government was involved and was finding a way to add another tax onto their already over-taxed shoulders. Harry hummed his agreement to whatever she said and surreptitiously scanned the shop for traces of magic. A faint glowing was seen around the credit card machine, but it was not much more than a dull sparkle, months old.

Harry promised Madam Roussel that he would return if he had any further questions and welcomed her to peruse his list to make sure her friend and the others she knew of were on it. She pointed out the next three addresses with a pinch to Harry's cheeks, followed by generous kisses-one even directly to his lips!-before ushering him out into the rain.

He walked along the street, confident now in where he was going, or at least confident enough. He tried to find one of the apparition spots, but was flummuxed when he stood at the place where the map indicated because he could see nothing to confirm that the lamp post he was standing at was the right place. It was in the middle of the sidewalk, for Merlin's sake!

His eyes slid past the shop windows, actually enjoying the day, even if he had to take quick steps between the overhangs along the sidewalk that shielded him from the rain. The window displays were interesting, flashes of color almost like an artist's canvas, just waiting to be discovered. Harry's mouth watered when he would pass a patissiere window, the shelves filled with tempting little bites of sweets and confections like he'd never seen before.

A rare book seller advertised a new batch of books never seen before and Harry made note to stop in there to peruse, in case he found something Hermione might like. Ron, he thought, might be appeased with a few of the sweets and candies he'd already passed by.

At the end of the street, Harry was just about to turn when he noticed a window display of brightly colored rain boots. A memory tickled the back of his mind and instead of letting it go, Harry crossed the street in the opposite way he was meant to be going and stood in front of the shop, peering at the boots. They were all sorts of colors and patterns, shiny plastic Wellingtons in every size imaginable. It was last Christmas, or maybe the one before that, that Charlie had been visiting the Burrow and mentioned that he'd bought a pair of boots like these for Ginny. If Harry remembered right, they were red with large white dots all over them.

A flash of the woman he'd seen from the train came into his mind and he opened his eyes widely. She'd been wearing boots just like Charlie had described. As unbelievable as it was, Harry now realized his chance glance might have been Ginny Weasley after all.

Xxxxxx

It was starting to get dark and Harry was miserable. He was soaked to the bone, the earlier enchantment with Paris was worn away, leaving him cursing everyone who could not be bothered to translate for him or point him in the right direction. He'd finally paid for a taxi to take him to the address he pointed at, but the assurance of "okay, okay, I will get you there" was obviously a lie as the cab driver had taken Harry's money gladly and driven him in completely the wrong direction.

He was ready to find an apparition point and go back to the hotel that the Ministry had arranged for him, if only he could find where he was on the little blasted map. It didn't help that there were few street lamps and Harry, unsure of where he was, was unwilling to pull out his wand and create his own light.

"Excuse me," he said to an elderly lady who was walking by. She clutched her shopping bag closer to her and scowled at him, warning him away. Harry tried once more, but the bloke who glanced at his map just shook his head and walked away.

"I'm beginning to hate this country."

He kept walking toward more light, hoping that he might find some street he recognized or find someone willing to help him. One street led to another and Harry found himself in a sort of square, filled with people who seemed to be much happier than the few he'd seen recently.

"Parlez-vous anglais?"

He repeated it several times to various groups of people who seemed less inclined to help and more interested in dragging him into whatever it was they were celebrating. Harry wasn't sure if it was some sort of holiday, or just a jovial group of young, drunk party-goers. Either way, they seemed disinclined to help.

"Can you please…?" Harry pointed to his map, turning to another group who looked less inebriated. "I need to get—"

"Harry?"

He looked up from his map to see Ginny Weasley right in front of him. She'd been a part of the more sedate group and had recognized him. Harry blinked at her and smoothed his hair over his forehead in nervousness.

"Hello, Ginny."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It was Louis' birthday—his 18th—and despite his protests, Ginny was determined to help him celebrate. She'd invited his friends to Amis Enchantés and made sure they had a good amount of cake and wine.

"This was...great, Ginny. Thank you."

Ginny kissed his heating cheek, making his friends jeer, and left the group with a wink.

"Cute guy," one of the bartenders said, looking over Ginny's shoulder to the group.

"Far too young for me," said Ginny. "And you."

Ines pretended to be offended but laughed, too. "You never date."

"Not true," said Ginny, even if it was mostly true. Romance was just...not on her agenda right now. There had been a few blokes here and there, but no one who could make it past the wall that Ginny had erected long ago. One had tried, rather hard, but Ginny just couldn't bring herself to feel more than a slight affection for him.

"Maybe a younger man would be good for you." Ines bumped her hip against Ginny's but didn't continue as a customer caught her attention looking for a drink refill.

"She's right, Ginny," said Lucas, the manager at the café. "You spend too much time alone."

It might have seemed like a come-on had Ginny not known him for years. He was happily married with a houseful of children at home.

"I'm fine," she protested. "Besides, if I had a boyfriend, you'd complain that I'm never available around here."

Lucas tipped his head in acknowledgment and gave her shoulder a find pat. "One day, Ginny, when you least expect it…"

"Not bloody likely," she muttered as she walked away to check on her other tables.

Louis and his friends stayed until the end of Ginny's shift and insisted on walking her home afterwards, too. It warmed her a little and helped to chase away some of the loneliness and melancholy from the night.

The square just down the street from her flat was busy with loud groups who streamed out of the restaurants and bars on the edges. Ginny looped her arm through Louis' and pretended, just for a few minutes, that they were both different people, maybe even in love, or just good friends who were spending an evening together. It helped and hurt at the same time.

"Can you please…?"

She looked up, tilting her head to see through the people. A man was impeding the flow of bodies, trying to get people to look at the paper he was holding.

Ginny's breath caught in her throat as she took him in. There was no mistaking who he was; Harry's picture had been plastered on every newspaper in Europe just a few years ago.

The darkness of the evening made it hard to see, but she could make out the faint line of his famous scar just under the edge of his hair.

Had he come to find her? Would some member of her family appear from the crowd? The thought made her blood run cold.

"Harry?"

She hated how weak and shaky she sounded. But the fact that Harry's face showed genuine surprise helped calm her a little. He looked completely taken aback and hurried to cover his scar with his hair.

"Hello, Ginny."

Louis tightened his grip on her arm. "Ginny?"

"It's fine," she soothed. "He's an old family friend."

Louis' eyebrows rose as he looked from Ginny to Harry, and then back again. He'd obviously recognized Harry Potter. Thankfully, no one else in the group seemed to have yet.

"Can I help you with something, Harry?"

He blinked at her, his eyes still wide, as if he was trying to take the entire scene in and make sense of it.

"Er…"

"Are you lost?" She slipped her arm out of Louis' and gave him a quick wink, hoping he'd take the hint that she was fine here with Harry. Louis stayed there, however, frozen in confusion and inaction.

"Er, yeah, I suppose I am," said Harry. "I don't mean to be a bother."

It _was_ a bother, of sorts, but the idea made Ginny feel bad. Her past felt like it was looming, encroaching on the world she'd built here in France.

"Not at all. Let me see."

Harry seemed to freeze for a moment and then lurched into motion, shoving the map he'd been looking at toward her. "I...I was looking for this address. Doesn't much matter, though. They're probably closed."

Ginny took a deep breath and hoped her hands weren't shaking too terribly bad. "Let me see."

The address was a boutique she knew well. They were a thrift store specializing in designer clothing. Marie and Ginny had shopped there often, occasionally snatching something too good to pass up.

"I know it. It's only a few blocks away, but...it is closed now." She glanced at her watch "time to be getting home, girl", to see that it had just turned eight. "They close at 6."

"Figures." Harry mussed his hair, his eyes darting toward Louis, who was still watching the exchange with curious eyes. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your...date."

Ginny sighed and shook her head. "It's not a date. Louis and I work together." She turned to Louis, who was being beckoned by his friends. "I'm really fine, I promise." Speaking in French to him seemed to snap him out of his trance and Louis nodded jerkily.

"Send an owl when you get home."

"I will." She moved forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling the skin heat there before he finally turned and joined his friends, who were walking away, sending shouts of "Au revoir!" and "merci pour le dîner!" back to Ginny.

When Ginny turned back around, Harry was wearing a strange expression that she couldn't quite place. It was sort of shocking to realize that there was no way for her to be able to read it, because she didn't know Harry at all.

"What brings you to-"

"I'm here for a case," Harry burst out. "I didn't want you to think...well, I didn't come just to find you, or anything."

"Oh."

The moment was beyond awkward, but Ginny couldn't bring herself to walk away. What had happened between them in the Chamber had forged a sort of tie that, no matter the years that had passed, Ginny didn't think she could dismiss completely. She hadn't seen him or even talked to him since the end of that year, but there seemed to be a gulf of things that needed to be said. If only she could bring her mouth to say something. Anything.

"What case?

"Muggle artifacts." Harry stuffed his map into his jacket. "I don't know if you know that I work-"

"With my Dad," Ginny finished. Yeah. I heard that."

Somewhere on the square a lone accordion began to play and Ginny closed her eyes against the intrusion of her present with her past. The two worlds shouldn't exist together and Ginny had tried so hard to make sure they didn't. Occasionally, a brother would show up and muck around with her carefully constructed world, but for the most part, they'd given up on her. Only Charlie kept in regular touch. He was the one she didn't mind visiting because he was less connected with everyone, and he never spoke of the past.

"Oh."

"And the boutique? It's part of your case?"

"One of a dozen," Harry said. "I've been all over Europe, it seems, trying to figure this out."

"Oh."

The music turned to a jovial, upbeat number and several revelers began to sing and dance, swinging each other widely. Ginny tore her eyes away from Harry and tried to find solid ground. She could just walk away. She'd given Harry his information and was under no obligation to stay standing here with him, no matter if he was her brother's best friend or not.

"You look…" He shook his head and the words disappeared between them.

"So do you."

Ginny took another breath, letting it out in a puff of steam. The night was growing colder and there was still a heavy precipitation in the air from the earlier rain.

"I'd better-"

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Ginny wasn't sure what made her ask. It wasn't an idea that was fully formed before it had tumbled from her lips. When Harry hesitated, Ginny swore to herself and tugged her coat closer. "Never mind-"

"I'd like that," he answered, speaking over her. He looked around as the crowd began to thin, streaming out from the square and leaving the music to echo around them.

Ginny nodded her head toward the side, indicating that they should walk that way. Harry fell into line next to her and they walked slowly.

"He's always here," Ginny explained as they passed the musician. "I love to come down here and listen to him play. It's just so...Paris."

"Yeah. I think so, too. I mean, I've only been here today, but..."

"It's charming." Harry made a sound in the back of his throat and Ginny glanced at him. "You don't think so?"

"Maybe under different circumstances," he said. "I've been pretty focused, I guess. But there are parts I've liked. The shops…"

"Oh, I love to just walk and look at the shops. I'd be homeless if I ever spent money in them, but…" Ginny clamped her mouth shut, feeling out of sorts talking to Harry Potter about her shopping addictions.

But Harry just nodded. He seemed intent on studying their surroundings, taking in the ornate statues on the square, the flickering light from the gas lamps that decorated the edges of the walk, and the tulips peeking out from the dark soil of the planters scattered here and there.

"How...how is everyone?"

"They're good."

There was more there, just under the surface, but Ginny was relieved when Harry let it go at that. He seemed to be perceptive of her hesitation, or perhaps the past was just as painful for him, as well. She didn't know. Her mother had once kept her up to date on all of the latest news from the Order of the Phoenix, but Ginny had asked her to stop the year that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had disappeared. She just couldn't handle hearing any more.

"And you? You're doing well?"

"Busy," Harry said. "You?"

"Busy," Ginny agreed.

They kept walking and the silence that should have been awkward seemed to ease into something manageable the more they moved.

"How long are you here?"

"I don't know." Harry tucked his hands behind his back as they walked. With a pang of sadness, Ginny was reminded of Professor Dumbledore and wondered if Harry had copied the action of his mentor subconsciously. "Possibly a few days but maybe longer, depending on what I find."

"Ah."

Ginny realized that the music had faded until she had to strain to hear it. They'd walked right past any of the bars and restaurants and out of the square.

"Oh. Well."

Ginny looked around, seeing a small wine shop that was still open. Harry seemed to have realized their predicament, too, and looked around helplessly.

"Do you mind?" She gestured toward the shop. "They have some really good, inexpensive bottles."

"I don't mind."

They entered the low-lit shop together, perusing the shelves. "I'll leave this up to your expertise," said Harry. "I honestly have no clue. I've had wine once, at a Ministry function." He clamped his lips shut and his forehead creased.

The gulf of years stretched between them again and Ginny turned to the shop owner, explaining what she wanted. He offered several selections and Ginny chose one. She was no expert, but she knew a few things to look for.

Once the wine was paid for and wrapped in a fancy bag, Ginny turned to find Harry watching her closely. She felt awkward and out of step, wondering if this was wise at all.

"Come on. My flat is just a block away."

Harry hesitated, but followed her out of the store and down the sidewalk. "It's a nice neighborhood."

"You should see it on Saturdays," she said. "The entire square is full of people selling everything you can imagine. And the other markets, too. Every vegetable known to man is there. The colors…" She smiled at the memories of hours wasted walking through the stalls, the tart taste of strawberries bursting on her lips when the vendors would offer her a berry from their piles. "The markets are like a rainbow come to life."

"I'd like to see that."

Ginny clasped the bag in front of her, casting about for something else to talk about. Merlin, how was she going to survive having Harry in her flat? She'd never even brought any of her brothers there and here she was inviting a virtual stranger home with her!

"Is there an equivalent to Diagon Alley here?" Harry asked. "I've been so focused on getting through this list for the case that I haven't taken the time to-"

"Oh! Yes! Rue Magique," she said. "It's a beautiful part of town, hidden behind some old buildings. The entrance is something really special. It's in a park that was rumored to be the place where… Merlin, listen to me. You don't need a history lesson." Ginny shook her head. "You'd have brought Hermione with you, if you did."

Harry chuckled. "No, I want to know. I guess I never really thought about it, just assumed that it exists in every large city."

"Most of them," Ginny agreed. "Well, anyway, the park is sort of hidden away in itself. You have to know what you're looking for or you'll walk right past it. There's a statue of Claudine the Conquered, but it's mostly hidden with ivy growth. If you look at her you'll see her wink and the gate will appear to lead you to the Rue."

"Sort of like the Fat Lady," Harry said.

Ginny smiled wistfully. "Claudine was a very feisty and stubborn witch, but she was very rich. She was what they call 'a catch', as far as I understand it, but Claudine had no intention of being caught. She always told people that she'd never marry and that she was rich enough that she didn't need a man."

"When was this?"

"Oh, let's see…" Ginny thought back to the lesson that Monsieur Deniau had given her when she first started at the agency. "Well before William the Conqueror. I can look up the exact date if-"

"Not necessary."

"Well, along came a man who made it well known that he wanted nothing to do with Claudine. Apparently, he was also very rich and handsome. Claudine was quite taken with him but couldn't bring herself to abandon her principles for the sake of Monsieur Plamondon-you know, I'm not sure anyone even remembers his given name at all. Everyone just calls him Monsieur Plamondon." Ginny trailed off, wondering why Harry seemed so interested in her ramblings.

"Well, some time went by, and Plamondon let it slip to a good friend that he was hopelessly in love with Claudine. The friend, as best friends often do, decided that he needed to step in and arrange a marriage. Everyone knew that Claudine was in love with the man."

"Did they ever marry?"

"No."

"Oh."

Ginny smiled. "Plamondon was killed, sadly, before anything was ever finalized. Claudine never married, and never showed interest in another man all the rest of her days. Her story became a sort of myth about love among the magical community. They affectionately named her Claudine the Conquered, and she was immortalized in that sculpture."

"It's sad," Harry said.

Ginny turned to look at him as they continued to walk slowly. "Sad? How? They were in love."

"And nothing came of it," he said. "She ended up alone because of her pride. If she'd given in sooner, maybe they would have had at least a few years together before he… Hang on, how did he die? In some war?"

She laughed. "Thestral races. He had been drinking and stepped out onto the track, or so the legend says."

Harry's face went blank and she could have sworn the edges of his mouth twitched upward into a sort of smile.

"Still. It's sad."

"But it's remembered as a great love story."

"Well, it's not."

Ginny chuckled and motioned toward the building where her flat was. Harry followed her across the street, his hands tucked into his jean's pockets.

"This is it," she said. "Do you...do you still want to come up?" She lifted the bag with the wine it in and Harry nodded.

"We have to be quiet," she said. "Madam Beaulieu goes to bed early. And she'll wake if we spook Lafayette."

Harry nodded, as if he understood all of what she was saying.

"And then Lafayette will climb into some obscure place and she'll end up screaming for me to come and find him for her."

"This sounds like a typical occurrence."

"At least once a week."

"Painful."

They shared a smile and Ginny removed her wand, using it like a key in the lock.

"Magical?"

"Of course," Ginny said. "Not everything magical is located in Rue Magique, Harry. Just like...England, there are witches and wizards who live all over the place." She'd almost slipped and said the word home. But it didn't feel like home any longer. Ginny wasn't sure if any place ever would again.

They went up the stairs as quietly as possible. Ginny unlocked her door and the lights flickered to life with her spell.

"It's nice," said Harry. He hovered in the doorway, as if unsure he would be welcomed in. And, in truth, Ginny wasn't sure why he would be, but she still felt drawn to him in a strange way that she couldn't describe.

"Thanks. It's a work in progress. It was a mess when Marie and I moved in." She moved forward and Harry seemed to take a deep breath before stepping in completely and closing the door behind him.

"Marie? Your-"

"Roommate."

"Oh. Is she…?"

"No clue where she is, honestly." Ginny lit another few candles and clicked the wireless on, turning the station away from her favorites to something that just played in the background. "Is that strange?"

Harry shrugged. "I lived with Ron for two years. Not much seems strange, anymore."

Ginny smiled tightly. "Marie is...what you might call a free spirit."

"Like Luna Lovegood?"

Ginny was startled to hear the name of her childhood friend slip from Harry's mouth. "You know Luna?"

"Of course, I know Luna," Harry said. "She went to Hogwarts." He shifted awkwardly and moved toward the table where Ginny had set the bag. "Can I help open this?"

"Yes." Ginny seized on the excuse to move into the kitchen, away from the warmth of Harry standing right next to her, the woodsy smell of him and the solid presence he held in her home. "I'll just get some glasses." Rather than summon them, Ginny moved toward the cupboard, taking her time to retrieve two mismatched wine glasses that she and Marie had bought from a local glass blower. They'd gone to a demonstration one day and watched the man create both, mesmerized that there was no magic in the process. It had seemed so magical.

"Here." Harry took the glasses from her and poured the wine into them. Ginny looked through the liquid into the flame of the candle on the table. The rich red color reminded her of stained glass, and she took a long swallow, praying there was a high alcohol content.

Awkwardness descended once more, and Ginny felt herself teetering on the edge of something huge. Everything was so mixed up tonight. Harry was here. In Paris. And he was here. In her flat. And he was here. Less than an arm's length away from her. And he was _here_.

"I don't remember much about you," she lied. It seemed as if the handful of moments they'd spent all those years ago were etched in her brain. Why did she forget little things she did every day, but remember the way his green eyes seemed to pin her in place?

"Me either." He drank a little sip, as if testing it to see if he would like it. He must have, because he took another drink. "Just...just that one day you were there, and the next day you were gone."

Ginny reached out to the chair that stood next to her, gripping the wooden back. "I...I think I'll change the wireless." She turned her back and bit her lip, closing her eyes. Everything was just too close right now.

"Ginny-"

"Harry. Don't. Not tonight."

He scoffed and she heard him pour more wine in his glass. "When, then, Ginny? Are you going to run again?"

"I didn't run."

"Right." Harry moved closer and Ginny wanted him to leave. She needed him to stay. "You never came back."

"I couldn't."

"I don't believe you."

She spun to look at him. He was so close, and it felt like she couldn't breathe. Those eyes, still so green, still so knowing. Maybe even more so, now.

"I couldn't. You don't-"

Harry swore and set his glass down hard on the table, sloshing a bit of wine onto the antique lace tablecloth. "Don't tell me I don't understand. You used to be… I thought you were someone else."

Ginny's hand shook and Harry took her glass, probably knowing that she would spill. "I can't-"

"I thought you were a Weasley."

Tears blurred her vision and she shook her head. "I thought so, too."

Harry scowled and moved impossibly closer, until he was nearly pressed against her. "Ginny-"

"I killed him, Harry. I killed Percy."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was like a hammer to his chest, hearing her say that. The words were torn from her throat, raw and so very real.

"No."

"Yes, Harry. I did." Ginny burst into tears, and even though he had no idea what to do, Harry moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. He needed to hold onto her.

All night he'd felt like a ship tossed about on the sea, no compass, no anchor. He'd never really considered that he might be talking to Ginny Weasley tonight. Despite the fact that he believed he had seen her while on that train, Harry had a thought in the back of his head that it hadn't been really real. Some sort of vision manifested by the idea that Ginny lived in Paris, perhaps. An overactive imagination.

But she was here, and he had no idea what to say to her, how to stop the breakdown that was in full progress against his chest.

Ginny had always seemed a sort of ghost figure to him, not actual, even if he understood intellectually that she lived somewhere out there in the world. She was an unspoken phantasm of the family he loved. A sort of wall of thorns had been built up in him around her name and he'd begun to believe things about her that shouldn't seem right. Inside, he knew he'd been wrong.

How did he do this? How did he stop the flow of a wound that was ten years in the making?

"It wasn't you," he said, pressing his lips against the side of her head. "It was him. Tom Riddle. Voldemort."

Ginny's crying intensified and she shook her head. "It was me. Percy was...he was trying…"

"I know," he said. "He was trying to help you. We figured that much out."

"And I... There was so much blood. I remember looking down at my hands and… Red. Everywhere red."

"It was paint."

"It was blood."

"Percy wasn't bleeding, Ginny. I was there. I saw him." He bent down, trying to get her to look at him, to see his eyes when he told her this. How had she not known? "It was the basilisk. He was trying to use a mirror to see around the corner and…" he sighed and lifted her chin. The tears filled her red eyes, spilling out and running down to where his fingers rested against her. They felt warm against his cold hand. "I don't know exactly how it happened."

"It was my fault. I told Percy what was happening. If only I'd-"

A fissure of anger opened up in Harry, something he'd thought had been buried since Voldemort's death. "What? What, Ginny? Not told him? Not reached out for help?"

Ginny pulled away, closing off again. She wiped violently at her face, trying to hide the evidence of her tears.

He wanted to shake her, to get her to look at him, get her to tell him what had happened all those years ago and why she'd run and kept running.

"I was so stupid-"

"You were tricked."

"So young and naive." She scoffed and spun on her heel away from him. The wine she'd been about to drop earlier was drained, refilled, and drained again.

Harry reached forward and snatched the glass out of her hand before she could drink even more. "Young, yes, maybe even naive, but better witches and wizards than you have been tricked by Voldemort, Ginny Weasley."

"Give that back!"

"No. Not until you explain it to me. Tell me why you left? Tell me why you didn't even come home for Fred...when Fred…" His throat closed off and Harry knew he couldn't say the words, not even years later.

"I killed one brother and watched him lowered into the ground. D'you really think I could survive another?"

"So, this is about your pride, is it, _Claudine_?"

Ginny's face went white as stone and just as hard. "Get out."

"No."

"Harry-"

"I think you owe me an answer, at least an answer."

"I don't owe you anything. You know I'm right. You said so yourself. I'm guilty."

Harry goggled at her. "I what? What're you talking about, Ginny?"

"I read the article, Harry. It was pretty plain what you think of me."

"What article?" She tried to move away from him, but Harry stood in her way. "What artic-"

"The one in the daily Prophet, about the time of the Triwizard-"

"Skeeter's shite?"

"When you said that I'd...that I'd killed him. That you believed-"

He felt drained, as if all the life had been sucked out of him. Rita Skeeter had been hard at work trying everything she could to discredit Harry at every turn that year and the one after. "That's a lie."

"You didn't talk to that reporter?"

"It's not like I had a choice, Ginny! She was always around, eavesdropping on conversations that she shouldn't have been-"

If possible, the heartbreak on Ginny's face tripled. "So, you said it."

"NO!" Harry's hands rose into his hair and he tugged at it. "I don't even remember the article you're talking about. I stopped reading them after…" He took a deep breath and tried to focus. "I never blamed you, Ginny. The fault was always with Tom Riddle and his twisted ideas. He used people, Ginny. He used everyone."

Ginny walked across the room, her arms wrapped around her body, holding her upright. "Everyone knew it." Her words were almost drowned out by the music. Harry turned it off with a spell and moved closer, but far enough away that Ginny didn't move again. "They were all thinking it."

"Who?"

"Everyone." She looked over her shoulder at him and there was such pain there, such anguish carried for so long.

"You were tricked," he said again. "That's what Voldemort did. He tricked me."

"Nobody died-"

"Bullshit. My godfather, Sirius, died because of me being tricked. It's the same thing."

She paled and looked down at the floor. Harry wondered how much of the war she'd known about. Did the Weasley's shelter her from it all, or only share bits and pieces with her?

"Dumbledore came to the Burrow that summer."

This was news to Harry. Ron'd never said anything like that. In fact, he'd told Harry he didn't know why Ginny had left. Dumbledore had mentioned helping Ginny go to Beauxbatons later, an off handed comment that Harry didn't think much about at the time. "When?"

"Several times. When they thought I was in bed, but I could hear them talking. He was afraid that I'd been...damaged. That the possession had harmed me in ways that were irreparable."

"Dumbledore was human," Harry said. Slowly, he lifted his hands and let them rest on Ginny's shoulders. It seemed important to touch her, to show her that he didn't believe she was at fault for Percy's death. So many things had gone wrong but Percy played a part in it, also. He hadn't told anyone what Ginny had confessed. He could have gone for help. Instead, he chose to seek out the problem on his own. And he'd died because of that decision.

"He made guesses and assumptions. Usually, they were pretty good. But...not always."

Ginny didn't seem to even hear him. She just stared into the dark window of the flat into the night. "We were supposed to go to Egypt. Dad won that silly contest. They used the money to bring me here instead. Ron was so mad. He never shut up about seeing the pyramids."

"Ron didn't care about the pyramids. He was mad because you left. He missed you."

"And I...I agreed to come. I thought they were right. I was broken. Tainted."

"Ginny-"

"And I've tried so hard, Harry." She spun in his grip, wrapping her hands into the lapels of the jacket he'd never taken off. "I stay so far away from the Dark Arts. I won't even go down that part of Rue Magique. Never stepped one foot there."

"That's not-"

"I can't...tempt myself. I can't be anywhere near anything that might have been touched by people like him."

Harry took a shaky breath. He wasn't ready to tell her anything about what he'd gone through as a horcrux. Now wasn't the right time, anyway. Ginny was almost delusional with her words now, they were spilling out over each other, making Harry wonder how strong that wine actually was.

"I've been so good. I've protected people. I don't...don't let anyone near me-"

Harry pulled Ginny to him, hoping that he could find the right words, or at least stop the flow of hers.

"Shhhhh." He held her there against his chest and felt her start to shake again. "I never blamed you, Ginny. I don't know what happened with your family, or what has happened since. But I _never_ blamed you. I couldn't."

He led her to the sofa, and they sat, Ginny curling into his side.

So much had been said tonight, so much revealed, and yet there seemed to be so many shadows still that Harry wasn't sure either of them was ready to confront yet.

He held her until she fell asleep, and then for a while more, thoughts roaming in his head. If he'd felt adrift before, he felt completely lost now, as if he'd been sent out to sea with no oars and no way to even know which way shore was.

It was late when he finally shifted a sleeping Ginny to lay against the sofa cushions and pulled a Molly Weasley afghan over her. He drank one last glass of wine, and then one more, before extinguishing the candles and locking the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The slamming of the door woke Ginny. Her neck was cricked painfully, pressed into a weird angle by the corner of the sofa.

"Oh!" Marie was standing in the middle of the flat, her shoes in her hands, still dressed in her 'going out' clothes from the night before. "The door slipped."

"S'fine," Ginny muttered. She yawned and blinked at the pale light of morning before clarity walloped her brain. Harry! She sat up, wincing at the pain in her back and neck. But Harry wasn't on the sofa with her, as she remembered him being. He wasn't in the room at all. She blinked wide-eyed at her roommate.

"Oh dear," Marie said as she eyed the two glasses on the table and the empty bottle of wine. "It was a two-fister last night, was it?"

"You have no idea." Ginny swung her legs over the edge of the sofa as memories from last night crept back in, their horrific glory on full display in her mind. It's no wonder Harry scarpered the first moment he could. Ginny had done the one thing she wanted to avoid the most-she'd been weak. And what made it worse was that it was Harry Potter-the same boy who had saved her when she was weak last time-who had witnessed it.

"I made a complete fool of myself," she muttered.

Marie hummed in agreement as she gathered the remnants of what she assumed was a one-sided pity party. "Not to worry, dear, I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks."

Ginny took a moment to try and collect herself. Her eyes felt itchy and swollen, like they always did after a heavy cry. 'It's a good thing you don't wear makeup, girl,' she told herself, 'you'd be a sight!'

The memories, not only of last night but from the past ten years, were tangible, scattered in her mind like gobstones rolling around. Just when she would try to grasp one, another would come along to take its place, bringing a fresh wave of shame, hurt, and anger.

This was all Harry's fault. He'd come here to France and opened up that box that Ginny had carefully kept the lid tightly on for so long. None of her brothers had been able to do that when they'd come to visit. And Ginny had built a thick wall to retreat behind when her mother sent letters; she could read them with a detachment of sorts, as if it was one of Madam Beaulieu's soap operas, not really connected to Ginny.

She moved toward her bedroom, lost in her thoughts. Marie was talking to her in that half-English, half-French mixture that they had, but Ginny didn't stay to listen. And she knew that Marie would forgive her.

The first thing she always looked for upon entering the room was the window. It was still too dark outside for it to glow like she wanted it to. She'd always had half a mind to charm it to glow at all times, but then would talk herself out of it, reminded that waiting made her appreciate it all the more. She sat on the edge of the bed and watched the sun rise, curled up in the bedclothes she pulled over her.

There was something-like a spark deep within her-that felt alive and more corporeal than she remembered it ever being, but it was painful, too.

When the sun was up and the window lit, Ginny looked away, feeling the overwhelming shame of last night hit her fully. It was very likely that she'd never see Harry Potter again. Or, worse, he'd summon her entire family to descend and they'd force Ginny to abandon her carefully constructed world.

"Like that can happen," she muttered.

"There's an owl!"

The sound of Marie opening the window and the flutter of wings tore Ginny's thoughts back to the present.

"Merde!"

She'd forgotten to send Louis an owl last night. No doubt he was checking in on her. She was surprised that he hadn't been at the door this morning, knocking to make sure she'd arrived home safely. He was rather an earnest sort of boy in that way.

The owl sailed into Ginny's room, but it wasn't Louis' regal Pascal; this was a small grey owl, marked with the blue leg band of the post office. A hired owl. It flew right to Ginny, perching on the end of the bedframe and held out its leg where a thin piece of parchment was affixed.

_We're not nearly finished with this conversation, Ginny. I'll be outside your door early on Saturday. I want to see the market and you'll be my guide._

It was signed with a simple HP.

"Merde!"

Harry Potter was nothing if not determined, it appeared. Even though she wanted to respond back that she'd pass, Ginny knew that Harry would just show up. He knew where she lived now.

"Chosen One, indeed," she said. "No wonder he vanquished Voldemort." She sighed and rubbed at her face. "Nothing for it. I'll have to do it. But if he thinks he's determined, he's not seen anything yet."

She crawled to the end of her bed where a small desk sat. "You want a tour, Harry Potter?" she muttered. "Well, you'd better be ready, because that's exactly what you're going to get."

Turning Harry's note over, she scratched her reply on the back.

_Fine. Bring me breakfast, at least, _she wrote. _And wear good shoes. You'll need them._

The owl held out his foot and Ginny affixed the note and tucked a knut into the pouch to pay for his services.

She opened the window and watched the sky until it was lost over Paris somewhere.

Ginny could handle herself with Harry for one more day. She'd be professional and fully in control. Harry'd get his tour and then he could go back to England where he belonged, and Ginny could go back to the life she'd so carefully crafted.

Xxxxx

The sun was barely up when Harry knocked at the door. Ginny would have been bleary-eyed, but she'd slipped just a splash of Pepper-up Potion into fruit juice and had been sipping at it faithfully. She'd had a late-night flight tour of Paris beginning at nearly midnight and had only managed a few hours of sleep before her alarm warned her that Harry would be there any minute.

Just as instructed, Harry had brought breakfast: a selection of pastries from one of the nicer bakeries in town. Fluffy croissants sat alongside warm brioche buns, crispy palmiers, orange sugar Danishes, and cherry pinwheels.

"I didn't know what you liked," he said with a shrug when Ginny's eyes went wide. "I ate the chocolate one already, though."

Ginny chose her favorite-a cherry pinwheel-and hummed in happiness when the sweet bread melted against her tongue. "Mmmmm. You may have won a few points, there, Potter."

Harry smirked and moved further into the flat before tearing off half a croissant.

'Just making himself at home, isn't he?' Ginny asked herself.

"Well, I hope you got your rest yesterday, because I'm going to show you all of Paris today."

The little smile that played about his lips slipped off and he blinked behind his glasses. "All of it?"

"Every last step."

Harry swallowed, thought about it, and then nodded. "Best get started, then, I suppose."

Ginny gathered her bag, red slicker, and boots, and ushered Harry outside to where she kept her bicycle locked to the iron grating of Madam Beaulieu's stairs.

"That's hardly fair," Harry protested. "You get to ride while I get to walk?"

She laughed and tapped her wand on the seat of the bicycle. The frame began to grow and extend, another seat, tire, and pedals extending out the back.

"Clever." Harry walked around, touching the spell work and even putting a little weight on the frame. "Think it will hold me? I'd hate to be pedaling through Paris and fall on my arse."

"I make no promises," Ginny said as she swung her leg over the first position and turned the little mounted headlight on. It was still a little dark and there would be cars moving about where they were headed first. "Be a Gryffindor and give it a try, will you?"

Harry's eyebrow rose slowly, and he swung his leg over, settling behind Ginny on the tandem bicycle. "Shouldn't I drive? I mean, not to be sexist, or anything. I just...doesn't the person in front have to put more work into it?"

"You just sit back and enjoy the ride," Ginny said. "I've been doing this for years. You're in good hands."

"Where are we going first?"

Ginny inched the bike forward and gave a smile over her shoulder as they set off. Rather than sway from side to side, as most tandem bicycles would, Ginny's bike was perfectly balanced, and they hardly had to pedal at all.

"I should turn you in for this, you know," said Harry. "And I would, if it wasn't so brilliant."

Ginny steered them through the streets as the sun began to rise. The charmed bicycle made it seem like they were flying.

"Does it fly, also?"

"No."

"Oh. Pity."

"Harry! You should be ashamed of yourself! You work for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office!" She laughed and glanced back to see Harry smiling widely as he balanced and held his hands up off the bars. "What would your boss say?"

The tease was meant to be playful, but Ginny felt it like a punch to the gut. Of all the people she'd left behind, the one that hurt the most was her father. She rarely allowed herself to even think about him.

"He'd need to ride around the block a few times to check out the charm work," Harry said. "And I figure he'd probably confiscate it, only to take it home and fiddle with it until it was beyond all repair." His smile was tight, and the words were soft, full of something heavy. Ginny hoped it wasn't pity.

"Yeah. You're right."

They were quiet for a bit more until Ginny cleared her throat. "We're headed to the Marche aux Fleurs et aux Oiseaux. It's one of the largest flower and plant markets around. We get all of our flowers for the café there."

"You work at a café?"

Ginny scrunched her nose. She hadn't meant to divulge any more personal things to him during this tour, but that one had slipped. "I work a couple of jobs," she admitted. "Still trying to decide what I want to do in life."

Harry muttered something, but it was covered by the passing of a large delivery truck rumbling by. They crossed a bridge and Ginny felt the bike shift as Harry looked over the railing to the Seine below them.

"Look!"

Ginny slowed the pedals and pointed off to their right. A massive square of market sat on the corner of two streets, with covered pavilions and trees that grew up right through them. The leaves were just now coming out, brilliant spring greens and little flowers of white and purple, still just buds.

"Wow."

"We're just a few blocks from the Cathedrale Notre-Dame de Paris. We can go there next. Let's park the bike and walk through." Ginny steered them to an area where they could lock up the bicycle and then led Harry toward the stalls that were just beginning to open up. Cheerful vendors chatted to each other as they filled their buckets with every color under the rainbow and flowers that Harry had never seen before.

"What do you think?"

Harry's eyes were wide, and his head appeared to be on a swivel as he looked left and right, taking it all in. "It's… I think Neville would love this place."

"Come on." Ginny beckoned him forward. "There's a part I want you to see." They wound through the stalls, Ginny letting her fingers trace the blooms and leaves as she pointed out this plant, or that flower.

"Which is your favorite?" Harry asked. Ginny got the impression that he hadn't meant to ask, but the question had just slipped out.

"Orchids," she said. "They're hard to grow-at least, the Muggle ones are. Finicky. But if you've got the right touch…" She pointed out one vendor just down from where they were that had hundreds of delicate orchids on display.

"Are there magical ones?"

"Yep." Ginny motioned to the back corner of the market, where a strange little Asian man was standing in front of an entire wall of bird cages. The birds were chirping and making a racket. There were almost as many colors here as there were down the flower aisles and Ginny laughed as Harry whistled low.

"Come on. He knows me."

The man stepped to the side, revealing a hanging curtain between the stacks of cages. Ginny ducked behind it and Harry hesitated before following. She could tell he was keeping his hand close to his wand and laughed.

The small back area that smelled horrible opened up immediately to the Magical Market that lay hidden behind the Marche aux Fleurs. Every magical plant know to Wizard-kind was on display.

"This is where Neville would like it best, I'd bet," Ginny said. She spread her arms wide and did a little twirl. Harry laughed and nodded.

"Yeah. I'll have to tell him about it."

They walked next to each other while Ginny pointed out various plants and what they were good for. One man stepped forward and offered a bright orange flower to Harry. He tried to wave it off, but the determined vendor gave him a cross look and gestured toward Ginny. Harry fumbled to try and pull a few coins from his pocket, so Ginny took the flower and tugged Harry away.

"When they offer it, you just take it, Harry. You'll insult him by trying to pay."

Harry gaped at her. "But…"

"Seriously. This is their thing." Ginny tucked the flower into the pocket on her rain slicker, the wide daisy arching toward the light and vibrating with excitement. The charm would last for a few days before the daisy withered away.

"He's hoping you'll come back and buy me a whole bunch of them."

"Do you want me to?"

Ginny laughed and shook her head. "No. I'm fine with just the one."

Harry's forehead crinkled, but he nodded and gave her a tight smile.

They walked on, Ginny talking a mile a minute and Harry nodding along, as if he was taking it all in. When they'd exhausted the magical flower and plant market, Ginny led him back out to the bicycle and they got back on, making a circuit around the island in the middle of the Seine to see the Cathedral.

"You should have brought a camera," Ginny said. "Or I should have thought to remind you to bring one."

"I'm fine. Seeing it is enough."

He looked at her and Ginny felt her face flush at the depth of whatever it was in those green eyes. She didn't know how to define it, but it seemed as if Harry was appraising her just as much as he had the market.

"Come on. If you thought that was amazing, just wait until you see a food market."

Harry chuckled behind her and pressed down firmly on the pedals, shooting them forward with a jolt. "I could eat again."

They wound through the streets, Ginny pointing out the Plase de la Bastille, and explaining that several infamous wizards had been imprisoned there, including Aloysisus the Awful, an old thief who wasn't nearly as awful as his name. All of his family had died away, leaving Aloysisus alone. With nowhere else to go, he'd started a petty theft ring with a group of thieves who were truly horrible at their craft.

"Did he want to be caught?"

"That was the point," Ginny said. "He'd rather be at the Bastille, where he knew people, and where he would be assured of food and a bed, possibly. The Bastille wasn't exactly known for its humane treatment of prisoners, but I'll bet magic helped that."

Harry shook his head. "The more I learn about wizards, the more I think they're the strangest lot around."

"Oh, that's just the tip of the weird stories, Harry," said Ginny. "I could start telling them and I'd still be talking a week later. Here we are!"

They'd arrived at the East Village to the Aligre Market. The crowds were not too bad, and Ginny pointed out the clock in the middle and the long tables full of odds and ends ware. Around the outside were fruits and vegetables of every color and variety you could ever imagine.

"Where do you want to start?"

"It all looks…" Harry stood with wide eyes and shook his head.

"Come on. Food first."

The market was more crowded than the flower one had been. Ginny pushed her way through and was startled when someone grabbed her hand. She looked down and then followed the arm up to see Harry give her a small smile.

"Almost lost you there."

Ginny wanted to pull away, but his hand was warm, calloused, and masculine. Her heart thundered against her ribs. She wasn't usually one for letting someone hold her hand, but it felt nice. And Harry didn't seem to be making a big deal about it. He was there, but his focus was on everything around them. Brushing off the idea that she should be annoyed, Ginny took a breath and pointed out the different varieties of fruits they were passing.

One man was doing some fancy moves with a large knife, tossing up small watermelons and carving slices out mid-air. A crowd was gathered around, and he would use the tip of his knife to fling chunks of the sweet fruit out for people to catch. One piece came flying toward Ginny and Harry caught it just before it hit her. Sweet and sticky juice splashed on her face and they both laughed. People around them clapped and cheered for Harry's catch. He offered her the piece and Ginny plopped it into her mouth. Harry was given a second piece for himself and he ate it while using the edge of his jacket to wipe the sticky residue off Ginny's face.

"Thanks." 

Harry bought a bag of small oranges and, hiding behind Ginny, shrunk it down and put it into his jacket pocket before they continued on.

"Ahh, the cheese section. Fromage," Ginny said as they entered the covered part of the market. Behind glass counters and on shelves surrounding them was every type of cheese imaginable. "You won't be hungry when we leave here."

"Ron didn't like this place?" Harry asked when he was offered his third sample, shoved nearly into his mouth by an eager older woman who kept at him until Harry took the slice from her and hummed in enjoyment.

Ginny's eyebrows rose as she considered. "He didn't want to see it."

Harry scowled. "What? Ron loves food."

"Ron hates anything not magical," Ginny corrected, but then she felt bad. "That's not true." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "He just...likes the familiar. He was only here for two days. I took him to a couple of places, but he was just...difficult. All he wanted to talk about was…" She closed her lips and shook her head.

"The past." Harry slid his hand into hers again and gave a nod. "Yeah."

They walked, accepting more samples until Ginny had to stop or she would burst.

"Where next?"

"What do you want to see?"

"I thought we were going to see it all?" Harry's smirk made her feel light and sort of...happy. They'd had fun so far.

"What about visiting Claudine?" As she said it, Harry's face from last night, his accusation that she was prideful like Claudine came into her mind and she had to look away. She wiggled her fingers to force Harry to let go. He sighed and let her pull away.

"Okay. Sounds good."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The entrance to the Rue Magique was just as different from Diagon Alley as it could be. The tiny little park where the sculpture stood felt almost like a forest in the middle of the city. The trees were large and overgrown, shielding iron benches forgotten by time, and an overgrowth of ivy. Harry felt almost like he was stepping into the Forbidden Forest. The air was moist and heavy with the perfume of plant life.

"For most people, they either wouldn't notice this park, or it would seem abandoned to them," Ginny said as she led Harry down a crooked path that was upheaved with tree roots. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and Harry looked around, sure someone was watching them.

"Here's Claudine."

Ginny pulled the ivy back to reveal a carved statue of a sad looking woman. She'd been young and beautiful, but time had worn the stone down until it was pockmarked and green with patina.

Harry had accused Ginny of being proud like Claudine last night during their argument. He looked between the two witches now, trying to see the similarities and differences. Ginny was arguably much prettier, and not just because she was real. Her hair was escaping from the twist she'd had it in this morning, rustled by the breeze as they'd ridden the bicycle all around Paris. The urge to reach up and smooth it back down was great. He lifted his hand and did so, hoping she wouldn't hex him.

"How do we enter?"

She seemed caught, looking up at him in the green-grey light of the park. "Tap your wand."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

Harry turned and realized that he was face to face with a rather precarious part of Claudine's anatomy. He hadn't noticed before. His face heated and he cleared his throat, looking down at his shoes when Ginny chuckled.

When he looked back up, there was a look in her eye, a sort of sparkle that was almost a challenge. Harry lifted this wand, not even bothering to look away from Ginny as he tapped it right onto Claudine's chest.

Claudine sucked in a breath and growled at him, but the iron gate next to her creaked open. "Scoundrel!"

"That might be my best memory of the day, right there," Ginny said as they walked through the gate.

Harry laughed and took her hand in his, determined not to let her pull away again. "You enjoyed that too much."

"You molested that witch, Harry."

"Hardly. I don't think you can call it molesting if it's just your wand."

"Tell that to Claudine," Ginny quipped. "She felt horribly violated."

Harry pulled her in closer and swallowed thickly as Ginny's arm brushed against his chest. There was a heavy moment that passed between them. Harry glanced down at her lips, wishing he could gather the nerve to just kiss her. He'd wanted to since the first moment he'd seen her this morning, with her hair twisted up on top of her head, held there by her wand, and cherries from her pastry on the edge of her lip.

"She enjoyed it."

Ginny scoffed and pushed him away, but Harry held tight to her hand. "Tell me about this place," he said. She'd been talking all day, opening up a part of her that he'd never imagined existed. He felt like he might be able to listen to her talk forever and never get tired of hearing her voice.

As she gave the history of the street, Harry turned to face it. The similarities to Diagon Alley were there. It was, after all, a shopping market. People bustled along the cobbled street, speaking in the fluid French that he'd come to think not so nasal and annoying anymore, particularly when Ginny spoke it.

The shops were tall, stretching several stories and most had colorful awnings that reached out into the sidewalk: striped pink and red, blue and yellow, green and gold. Everywhere Harry looked was opulence-iron scrollwork decorated the balconies above the shops, ornate columns and cornices held up signs embellished with gold paint. He saw shops that he recognized, like Madam Pimpernelle's and Gambol and Japes, but also new stores like St. Martin's Potions Boutique, Courtemante Chaudrons, and Baguette's: Fine Wands Since 385 A.D.

"...the flats here are-"

"Wait. Flats?" Harry looked past the signs and upward to where Ginny was pointing. The iron balconies were apparently attached to expensive flats that looked out over the street.

"-far too expensive for the normal witch or wizard to afford," Ginny continued. "They cost more per month than I make in a year."

Harry gave them a dismissive look. "I like your flat," he said and then stammered to cover himself. "I mean, what I've seen of it. I'd like to see more."

Ginny stopped speaking and looked at him, that challenging look back in her eyes. "Oh, really?"

"Not what I meant," he said. He rubbed the back of his neck and couldn't stop a laugh from erupting. "Merlin, I can't seem to say anything right."

"You're cute when you blush, Harry." Ginny moved a step forward, tugging Harry with her. "Come on, let's explore."

Xxxxx

They spent the rest of the afternoon looking in every single shop. Harry tried to back out of the fancy lingerie shop, Dentelle Et Boutons, but Ginny pulled him in and then proceeded to try and make his eyes pop out of his head by asking his opinion of various colors of lacy things. Harry's mind was already struggling since the whole Claudine incident. Imagining Ginny in things like this...

"Alright, Harry, I get the clue."

"What?"

Ginny laughed and pulled him out into the street again. "I won't tease you anymore."

Harry adjusted his collar and made sure his fringe was down over his scar, in case someone happened to see Harry Potter coming out of a place like that. When Ginny continued to laugh, Harry pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her back and linking his fingers.

"A bloke can only take so much, Ginny."

She looked like she might push him even further, but thankfully let it go. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

They stood in the middle of the Rue Magique, Harry holding Ginny to him, her hands twisted in the lapels of his jacket, and watched each other. Slowly, and uncaring if anyone saw, Harry leaned in and kissed her. The moment grew long and as much as Harry wanted to deepen the kiss, propriety reminded him that they were in the middle of the sidewalk, where anyone could gawk at them or take a photograph. Ginny didn't need that.

She pulled away first. "Harry-"

"Let's get something to eat." He took her hand and walked toward the first restaurant he saw, tugging her with him. Maybe it had been folly to kiss her, but Harry couldn't bring himself to regret it. It felt right.

Xxxxx

They ate dinner while avoiding the hippogriff in the room. Harry'd allowed Ginny to order for him-_as long as it's not snails, please!_-and had enjoyed whatever it was she'd chosen off the menu. They'd had wine, also, but not as much as when they'd been at her flat. Harry paced himself. He already felt on edge and didn't need any encouragement to press further than Ginny was willing to go.

In truth, Harry didn't know what he was doing, anyway. Did he like Ginny? Yes. Did he love her? He had no idea. It wasn't a practical idea, since they'd only really known each other for less than forty-eight hours again. He only knew that he wanted to spend time with her, preferably with kissing on the menu.

There were still so many hurdles to get over and Harry pushed them to the back of his mind. If he had limited time with Ginny-a sure thing since his return portkey to England left tomorrow afternoon-then he didn't want to spend it second guessing every move. He wanted to enjoy the time with her, learn more about her.

They walked back down the Rue Magique together. Ginny had tried to protest Harry's hand holding, but Harry had stayed firm and she'd given in. Minutes later, her fingers had tangled with his and Harry felt she was the one clinging to him, not the other way around.

"This is one of the approved apparition points," Ginny said, pointing to the streetlamp that had a little symbol of crossed wands hidden in a fancy fleur de lis. "They're in various places around the city."

"Seriously? They expect people to be able to find those?!" The symbol was small and easily overlooked.

"In the countryside, it's far less regulated. I think it's something to do with the sheer number of tourists. The French Ministry is rather…"

"Don't I know it," he grumbled. "You should have seen the way they went through my suitcase. Flashed my unmentionables about like a surrender flag."

Ginny snorted and Harry took the chance to wrap his arms around her again, rocking them side to side.

"Try living here and retaining my British citizenship," she said. "Every year I'm forced to fill out dozens of papers and get all sorts of documentation that I plan to stay, that I'm being a productive citizen, and that I'm not trying to subvert their government or magical authority, or something."

Harry thought about that. He'd never considered that Ginny would have kept her citizenship. Did that mean that one day she'd planned to come back? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask when Ginny went up on her toes and kissed him.

Since they were closer to the entrance of the Rue, out of the way of general traffic, Harry deepened the kiss, holding her to him. He'd never felt like this, slightly out of control but feeling everything at once.

There was a nagging thought in the back of his mind that maybe Ginny had figured out a way to avoid talking to him. It was pushed to the side, however, when Ginny broke away and whispered to him.

"Apparate us to my flat?"

"Ginny-"

"Just tonight, Harry. You go home tomorrow, right?"

He tried to clear his mind. "Yeah, but… We need to talk."

"We can," she said as she kissed along his jaw line. "Later."

He wasn't completely convinced, but her hands tugged at him, pulling him impossibly closer. Harry kissed her one more time, ignoring someone who whistled as they passed on the sidewalk.

"I need...I need to concentrate," he finally mumbled. Not all of his parts were in agreement, but he mentally promised them that this was a better idea. At Ginny's flat they could slow things down and talk. He could bring up the revelations from the other night and maybe convince her that hiding in France was no way to go through life. And then there was the whole dark magic thing… She needed to know about horcruxes and that there was no lingering darkness in her.

Ginny pressed her face to Harry's chest and clung to him. "I'm ready."

With determination, destination, and deliberation in his mind, Harry apparated them out of the Rue.

Xxxxx

Ginny was in no mood to talk when they arrived. She kissed him again even before he had opened his eyes. Even though it was difficult, he tried to do a mental inventory, making sure all the distracted parts had made it along with them. When everything checked in, Harry allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy the kiss.

"Ginny-"

"Take this off." She pulled at his jacket. There was a sort of manic brightness in her eyes when he looked down at her.

"-we need to-"

"Please, Harry. Take it off."

He did what she asked, and Ginny removed her coat and tossed her bag to the side. His jacket made a loud 'thump' sound when he tossed it and he winced, having forgotten about his oranges in the pocket.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Talking is overrated. Let's just kiss."

He shook his head, more to clear it than to protest. He'd never expected to hear those words from a witch directed toward him.

"But we need to-"

"Harry, I want you to make love to me. I'm asking you to."

His mind went blank. "I…"

"Do you not want to?" She removed several pin-thingy's from the twist in her hair and shook her head, making the hair cascade down her back and over her shoulders.

"Erm…"

"Because I thought that was what you wanted." Slowly, she began removing parts of her clothing, one button at a time. "I could have sworn I felt-"

"No," he burst out. "I mean...yes, but…" He licked his lips, unable to tear his eyes from the pale skin of her chest, being slowly revealed. "Talking. We need to-"

"No talking." Ginny slid her arms out of the shirt she'd been wearing and dangled it from one finger before letting it slip to the floor.

Harry stared at her. The main part of his brain had closed down completely. All he could think about was what he was seeing. He didn't care anymore that this was probably a bad idea.

When Ginny turned around and fiddled with her bra strap-undoing it with one hand-Harry was lost. He followed her to her bedroom and closed the door behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Soft music played in the darkness of the bedroom and Ginny traced her fingertips along Harry's shoulder and back. A song came on that she knew, and Ginny hummed along before softly singing the words. She closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in the moment. No more thinking.

She couldn't sleep. Harry was dead to the world next to her but her mind just wouldn't turn off.

Guilt was a part of that. She'd caught onto Harry's trick of using affection to coax personal details out of her early on in the day. Likely, he didn't even realize that he was doing it, but she'd seen the way he would touch her, warming her up, in a way, before making some comment that would require her to reveal something about herself.

She'd tried to resist with various tactics, but his touch was intoxicating and made her crave the warmth of his fingers along hers, the way he touched her lower back when letting her go through a doorway first, and the way he leaned into her when she spoke, attention completely on what she was saying.

At the end of the night, she hadn't wanted to send him on his way, but knew that coming back to the flat meant more questions, and so she'd used his affectionate touch against him.

Finally, in the middle of the night, she couldn't hold out any longer and drifted off, dreaming about little colorful birds getting lost in the flowers that turned into lacy bits of lingerie.

Xxxxx

Harry woke first. She could feel him moving against her, rolling in the narrow bed and pulling her body to his. He wasn't completely awake, but enough to know where he was.

"Ginny," he whispered, lips against the back of her neck.

She pretended to sleep, wondering what he would do.

He held her tighter, toying with a bit of hair that was not tucked under them both. She wanted to ask what he was thinking about, wanted to know what thoughts were swirling in his head.

"I can hear you thinking from here."

Sighing, Harry nudged her so that she would turn. His lips pressed to her forehead for a long minute.

"Just thinking about this. Waking up here. In Paris. With you."

"Good thoughts?" She was afraid of the answer.

"Yeah."

"Good." Instead of letting him elaborate, Ginny kissed him, hoping to lead him to more loving.

They kissed lazily, hands wandering for a bit before Harry sat up on one elbow, looking down at her. "Last night you said we'd talk...later."

Ginny, annoyed that he hadn't been distracted by her advances, rolled to her back and pulled the sheet up over her chest.

"Is that really how you want to spend your time? You leave soon."

Harry reached over her and took his glasses off the nightstand. "I know, but I think it's important."

Ginny tried to decide how to tell him what she wanted. She chewed her lip and thought about what she'd already told him. "I told you why I left."

"But not why you stayed away."

"Yes, I did. I can't go back, Harry. I can't see it in their faces every time I look at them. I can't sit at my mother's table and pretend to be okay. It's not fair to them."

"It's not fair to you, either." Harry touched her chin, making her turn toward him. They shared a long look and Ginny slid closer, lifting the sheet so they were touching again.

"You can't tell anyone, Harry." She kissed his chest and then his neck, her fingertips holding him in place.

His hands were more determined now, caressing and distracting. "That we slept together?"

"That you even saw me." Ginny needed to drive this point home. If Harry went back and told her family that he'd spent time with her, they would see it as a sign of hope, a sign that she might come back.

Harry froze. "That's not fair, Ginny. I can't-"

"Please. Harry, if you feel anything for me at all, you can't. I... I'm not ready." She smoothed her hair back out of her way and twisted into a loose plait before tucking it under her head.

"I can't lie," he whispered.

"Then don't. Just...omit."

"How is that fair to either of us?" he asked. "Ginny this isn't...I've never done this. I don't…" He huffed and pulled her into his arms. "I'm not the type of bloke who does this with someone...and then leaves. I don't think I can do that."

She let that thought settle as she leaned into him. She liked that he wasn't the type who took this lightly. Despite her seduction of him, she really did like Harry. He wasn't anything like she'd expected. She might even more than like him, but she wasn't ready to talk about the past again, or going back, or her family. It was just...too soon.

"Okay," she conceded. "Not lie. Just...can we not say anything yet? I need...time."

Harry's fingers found her hair and tugged it up over her shoulder, running his fingers through the ends.

"Please, Harry?" She looked up at him, hoping to convey her seriousness. "Just until…"

"Until?"

Ginny blew out a breath and rubbed her forehead. "Until I can get this all straight in my head."

"Get _us_ straight?" he asked as he leaned in, his warm breath bringing out goosebumps all over her body.

"Us," she agreed. "And other things."

"So, you agree that there is an 'us'."

"Harry-"

"Ginny," he said. "I don't do casual. It's not worth it to me. And I don't think you're the type, either."

"No," she agreed, even though she'd been casual in the past. It had always felt wrong, like she was holding everyone at arm's length.

Harry kissed her long and slow. "So, I'll go home, for now. But I'm coming back." He moved to rest his weight on her, and Ginny's body responded, arching toward him. "And we're together."

"O-okay."

"And we're going to talk about the past."

"Harry-"

"You're not dark, Ginny." He kissed her neck and Ginny wrapped her hands around his shoulders, curling as far into him as she could. Her breathing hitched at his words. He lifted his head and looked right at her, his green eyes showing like the colorful bits in her window. "I've never thought so, and nothing you tell me can make me change my mind."

Her throat closed up and the back of her eyes burned. She wanted to believe him, but ten years of convincing herself was hard to overcome. And even though she was scared she was going to hurt him, it felt too good to be with him. She was tired of denying herself all ties back to the world she loved, tired of living on the edge of everything she'd always wanted.

She nodded against the pillow and lost herself in him, allowing him to swallow all of her pain and doubt and fear. For now.

Xxxxx

Mélancolie.

It was a familiar feeling, even though Ginny hated it. She'd spent so many of her Beauxbatons years swimming in a sea of it while pretending to be a jovial, happy girl for everyone around her. Soon, she'd become an expert at hiding it, even though it was her constant companion.

Marie was helping. She didn't know details, other than that Ginny had had a short-lived love affair of some sort that had ended. The day Harry left, Ginny had cried on the sofa wrapped in her mother's afghan, her fingers woven through the soft fibers, making the holes bigger.

The wireless was on constantly, soft accordion playing in the background while Marie baked everything she could think of and spoke only in French. She never mentioned anything having to do with love or life, or anything serious. She may not know all the details of Ginny's past, but she was still a good friend and knew how to help, in her own way.

It got easier as the hours went on, stretching into days. Everyone at work knew something was wrong. Ginny told them she was sick. Louis had asked, in his stumbling shy way, if she was pregnant when he'd caught her being weepy. That had actually made Ginny laugh.

Three days later, after Marie had dragged her out shopping, Ginny found a box sitting on the doorstep. It was solidly built, with wooden braces all along the edges and sides, and the word 'fragile' stamped all over it.

"Qu'est ce que ça pourrait être?"

The girls eyed it suspiciously and each did a few charms to try and detect what it might be. Finally, Ginny removed one side and pulled out a beautiful blue glazed pot with a bright red orchid planted inside. The entire box had been charmed as a greenhouse environment.

"Alors?"

"It's for me," Ginny said. Tucked into the back of the box was a small card.

_Neville told me an orchid means beauty and strength. You are both._

The signed HP at the bottom made her smile. Ginny looked up to find Marie watching, her eyes glassy with tears.

"Magnifique."

"Yes, it is." Ginny turned the pot to get a closer look at the flower. It was a vibrant red, speckled with light green and white, the edges soft and lacy.

The pot was placed next to her bed, where Ginny could look at it every day, and the sunlight could warm it.

Another two days later, Harry's first letter arrived. Ginny devoured it while tucked in a bathroom stall at Amis Enchantés.

His second came a few days after that.

It took four of them for Ginny to write back. Her hand shook the entire time she wrote it. What would she do if it arrived for Harry while he was at the Burrow, or at work? He'd said he didn't want to lie. How would he cover that Ginny was writing to him? She kept it short and didn't sign her name, just in case.

Harry's letters were casual, but he would occasionally include something sweet-that he missed her, that he was already planning to come back, that he wanted her to show him more of Paris when he did come back. He never pressed her to talk or even mentioned her family.

It made her long to be with him even more. There was a sweetness, an innocence to her memories with him. Here, in Paris, he was all hers. He didn't belong to anyone else. And she couldn't wait for him to come back.

A/N This one goes out to the Hinny Refugees on Discord. :heart:


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

He was late for work. If he stayed home much longer, Arthur was going to send an Auror squad to track him down.

Not true, Harry decided. He'd just send Tonks.

Less than twenty-four hours home from France and Harry was already struggling with how all of this would work. He usually spent all of his time with one of the Weasleys or Hermione. How was he going to be able to lie to them or hide the fact that he was in a relationship with Ginny?

Not only that, but he needed to find a way to get back to France, somehow, without leaving any hint of why.

And that's how he'd come to be late, because he was staring at the piles of research that he had on the credit card case, weighing his options. If he took what he had into the Ministry, they would probably find the culprit in quick order, but Harry would need to find a way to get back to France. If he didn't...then more Muggles would get scammed out of their money, but he had a ready excuse to go back.

In the end, Harry decided that a little delay was worth the risk, for now.

He left the vital French files at home, hidden in the back of his bookcase.

Xxxxx

Arthur was buried in his own work when Harry entered the office. He spun his chair and looked Harry up and down.

"Alright?"

"Yeah. Sorry, I'm late."

"Understandable." Arthur stood and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You've been gone for a week; I'd imagine it's hard to get back into a rhythm."

"Sort of, yeah." Harry set the thin file he'd brought with him on his empty desk. It seemed to draw his attention completely. That, and he couldn't bring himself to look Arthur in the eyes. Not yet, anyway.

"How was it?"

"Good," Harry said quickly. He chanced a glance and felt his chest tighten at the jovial face that he'd grown to respect more than any other. "Good. I think...well, we'll see if anything I found makes sense."

"We will, indeed." Arthur reached for the file and began skimming through it. Harry sank into his chair and watched Arthur's expression as he digested the report. In his mind, however, he was having a very different conversation with the Weasley patriarch.

_I found Ginny. She's well. No, she's not. She's hurting, but I'm going to work on that. She's going to get better. And...and I think I might…_

"The trip to Germany was quick, efficient. They had everything that we asked for all ready-all of the files and research. Very organized. France...not so much. The Ministry was a pain, to be honest. They gave me very little, after I threatened them, and I had to do most of the work."

"Hmm. I would have expected more from France," Arthur took his glasses off and slid the earpiece into his mouth, his forehead creasing. "You mentioned when you arrived there that it looked promising."

Harry'd forgotten that he sent an owl back before he'd run into Ginny. "Er, yeah. I... I didn't find exactly what I wanted. In fact, I may have to go back." His stomach turned at the lie, making him feel sick. He tried to keep Ginny in his thoughts to justify the lie. He kept trying to picture someday down the road when Ginny would be ready to come home and he'd bring her to the Burrow, and they could all be happy again.

"Interesting. What makes you think you might need to return?"

All sorts of words filled his mind, careening about. "Erm...I ran out of time. Most of the shops were closed when I went, or not open on Saturday. I needed to talk to the owners to get their information."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "And it's not something that could be done via owl?"

Harry looked down at his desk. "No, best to do it in person, I'd say."

"Well, we'll see what Tonks has dug up. She's been asking around here, posing as one of those crebit card people. Last I talked to her, she thought she'd found something."

Harry forced himself to nod even as his heart raced. What if Tonks solved the case before he could get back to France? How would he see Ginny then? He could take a holiday, he supposed, but Ron-or more likely Hermione-would see right through that.

"Did you at least get to see some of the sights while you were there?"

Arthur's question startled Harry and he blinked at the man, his brain trying to catch up. "Oh, yeah! I saw...loads. Hard not to when you're in a place like that." He took a deep breath and launched into an edited story of Claudine the Conquered as Arthur settled in the desk across from him, a half-smile on his face.

Xxxxx

"We never hang out anymore."

Harry's beer froze in the air and he looked over the pint to Ron. "We're hanging out now."

"I know we are now, but I meant…" Ron huffed and took a long drink of his own beer. The pub around them had a comfortable buzz from the patrons, nothing too loud, but nobody was paying them any attention, either. That's why Harry liked this place.

"You're always off traveling for work, and I'm-"

Harry wiped the foam from his lip and forced himself not to roll his eyes. "Once, Ron. I've been away once in the past few-"

"For a week."

"You sound like a jealous girlfriend."

Ron stiffened and then a smile bloomed on his face. "Do I?"

"Absolutely."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to, I just realized that we all got so busy. Hermione's off at school-I barely see her-and you're busy at work. And I'm-"

"You travel more than I do."

Ron lifted his pint toward Harry. "Fair point." They drank in companionable silence for a few minutes.

Harry knew he was going to have to get better at coming up with ways to deflect Ron's questions, because there were sure to be questions. And many of them.

Neville joined them sitting at the bar. His drink sloshed a little as he slumped into the seat, nearly missed and had to readjust before getting it just right. His eyes were glassy but crinkled in the corners as he smiled.

Ron chuckled. "Having fun, Nev?"

"Oh, loads! Did you know that Seamus can drink _twelve_ pints in a row? Lost twenty galleons on that bet. How can a bloke just...just do that? I only got six." He tilted slightly and Harry laughed as he had to help Neville sit upright.

"Maybe you should stop there, mate. Wouldn't want to end up on the floor."

"Yep." Neville hiccupped and then sipped slowly at the remaining beer in his glass.

"Watch my pint while I use the loo." Ron tapped the bar top with his fingertips and slid off his stool, weaving his way through the people toward the back of the pub.

"Hey, Neville?"

"Yeah?"

Harry glanced to make sure no one was listening. "Are there certain flowers that mean certain things?"

Neville's forehead creased as he hovered just inches above the wooden bar. "Like hidden meanings and such?"

"Yeah, I guess."

His friend brightened and he sat up straighter. "Oh, yeah! Every flower has a meaning. Gran always goes on about them. Like roses mean love, but the message changes depending on the color, you see-"

Harry nodded and looked down at his pint. He remembered hearing Ginny say something like that while they walked through the flower market. "What about orchids?"

"Orchids?"

"Yeah, what do they mean?"

Neville smiled even wider. "Orchids are beauty and strength. Gran loves them. She has loads of them all over the house. They're her babies. 'Course, hers will bite your hand off if ye' get too close." His words slurred together, causing Harry to smirk. No need to worry that Neville would repeat this conversation to anyone else; he likely wouldn't even remember it had taken place.

"What're you talking about?" Ron joined them again and finished off his beer, signaling the barman for another.

"Flowers," Neville said at the same time Harry said, "Nothing."

Ron's eyebrows went up. "Flowers?"

"There was this market in France not far from where I stayed. I was just asking about the different types of flowers that I saw there. Nev's Gran has some that will bite your hands off."

"Wicked."

"How was France? You never told me."

Harry's eyebrow rose. "French."

Ron smirked and raised his new pint in salute. "I hated it, too."

Harry kept his mouth shut and went back to drinking his beer. The idea of sending Ginny something-flowers or a plant of some sort-had been floating through his head since he got back. He just didn't know exactly what it would say. I mean, they were together, and everything. It should be right for a bloke to send flowers to a girl he was seeing, right?

Arthur bought flowers for Molly all the time. He'd even seen Ron buy flowers for Hermione, although usually only after they had a really big row. Uncle Vernon had sent flowers to Aunt Petunia a time or two, and Harry had watched the expensive delivery van drive up and all the neighbors watch as the driver brought huge bouquets of ugly flowers to the door.

And he liked Ginny.

Beauty and strength were good things. Harry promised to find a florist tomorrow and do what he could to get some shipped to Ginny.

He turned to thank Neville, only to see that he was asleep on the bar, drooling a little, and snoring a little more.

"We should do this more often," Ron mused from next to him.

Xxxxxx

Hagrid led him deeper into the Forbidden Forest, along the winding paths overgrown with thick underbrush and tree roots.

It'd been years since he'd been in here, but it still creeped him out. He held his wand at his side, just in case.

"What're we looking for?"

"Hippogriff herd had a couple'a foals this week," Hagrid said. "Buckbeak's kids, actually. Twins. But one was sickly, and they kicked him outta the herd."

"That's...that's awful," Harry said.

"Tha's nature," Hagrid grunted. "Anyway, Firenze said he seen him over here, all by his lonesome. Looked sick. Though' I'd see if I could nurse him back to health."

"That's nice," Harry said. "I still don't understand why they would kick him out. Wouldn't he need more help if he was sick?"

Hagrid moved aside a thick limb for Harry, letting him pass on the path easier. "Well, tha's just how some things are, yeh know. Maybe they kicked him out, or maybe he just went off on his own. Either way, he needs some help gettin' strong again, then maybe they'll take him back."

Harry thought about that as they continued to search, Hagrid pointing out the small hoof prints in the soft soil. In a way, this little hippogriff was like Ginny. She'd been through something horribly traumatic and had been removed from her family.

"There he is," Hagrid said. Harry looked around the half-giant to see a small grey hippogriff cowering against some brambles, its orange eyes fixed on Hagrid. "Remember how ter approach, Harry?"

"Maintain eye contact," Harry said after swallowing past the lump in his throat. "And bow."

"Righ'." Hagrid motioned for Harry to try.

"Me?"

"Yer less a threat than me," Hagrid said.

Harry wiped his moist palms on his jeans and took half a step forward, focusing on those glowing orange orbs. The hippogriff was small-tiny, in fact-and its legs were just spindles. Its left wing hung at a strange angle, but Harry didn't take his eyes away to inspect. Slowly, he bent at the middle still locked in a stare with the animal.

"Tha's it," Hagrid said gently. "Look, he's lettin' yeh come close."

The little hippogriff shook as it bowed low and Harry took a few steps forward, resting his hand on the shoulder of the animal, a wary distance away from the sharp claws.

"What now?"

"Now we see if we can get him ter follow us. He's been livin' offa bugs and such, I'd say. Could probably use a good meal. I got some ferrets back at the house."

"_Will_ he follow us?"

"Give him a little pat, a little touch. He's been out here on his own for a while. He needs some affection ter start building some trust. Once yeh get tha' then he'll follow yeh anywhere."

Harry patted the hippogriff gently, smoothing the feathers on the animal's neck.

"Come on. Le's start back and see if he follows."

Hagrid turned around and Harry followed, keeping an eye on the little animal. It didn't move until they were almost out of sight, and then Harry heard the rustle of leaves as it inched toward them.

"Hagrid-"

"Yeah, I hear him. Jus' keep walkin'. He'll catch up."

They made their way back toward Hagrid's hut. Just before they entered the Hogwarts grounds, Harry felt a cold brush of beak along his hand. The hippogriff had nudged him but refused to enter the grounds. His eyes kept darting from side to side, measuring any threat that might come.

"He's skittish," Harry said. "Afraid to come out."

"Righ'ly so, I'd say," Hagrid said. "He's had a rough time of it. It'll take a bit o' time."

"What do we do?"

"I'll get the ferrets. You just stay there, givin' him some affection. Touch him. Build the trust up."

Harry did as instructed, gently smoothing more feathers and patting the animal on its sides. "You'll be fine," he said softly. "Hagrid will take good care of you. He'll love you, probably give you a horrible name like Killer, or something. Although, I suppose if you do grow up you might be a killer one day, he'll call you...Ribbons, or something."

The hippogriff still shook all over but kept looking to Harry for reassurance.

"There we go." Hagrid reappeared and the stench of freshly gutted ferrets swam about Harry, making him gag.

The hippogriff bolted backward, away from them, circling the bucket Hagrid had set down.

"It'll take some time," Hagrid said again.

Harry thought about all that he'd seen over the past hour. "Do you...do you think it's the same for people? I mean, some people have been through some pretty hard things, trauma, even. It makes them...skittish, too, just like Ribbons, here."

"Ribbons?"

Harry felt his face flush. "Well, I was just thinking of what to call him. I mean, I don't know what you'd want to name him. It was just...just an idea."

"It's no' a bad idea," Hagrid said warily. "But yeh'll wan' ter work on yer namin' skills before yeh have kids, Harry."

Harry's ears burned but he nodded. "Do you think it's the same with people, though?"

"Makes sense," Hagrid said. He motioned with his large hand and Harry turned to see that the hippogriff had moved close to the bucket and was sniffing the air. Step by step, it approached, eyes always scanning, always measuring.

"It takes time," Hagrid said, "for some people ter work through hard things. Maybe they need someone ter help them, like we did for this lit'l one."

"A gentle touch," Harry said. "Affection. Trust. And patience."

"Exactly." Hagrid beamed at him. "Yeh know, Harry, if yeh ever get tired of workin' with Arthur down there, yeh come up here and work with me. Yer right good with animals."

Harry let out a shaky breath and nodded. He didn't think he'd ever do it, but he appreciated what Hagrid was saying. "Look!"

The hippogriff had finally decided to try a bit of the food. He must have been hungry, because he ate the entire offering, small as it was, and began tipping over the bucket looking for more.

"He's still hungry."

"Best to pace himself," Hagrid warned. "Give him too much and he'll be sick. Just a little taste, then he'll ask fer more. Pretty soon, he'll be ready fer it all.

The parallels to Ginny in Harry's mind were interesting. She'd probably hex him if he ever told her that he'd compared her to an abandoned, sickly baby hippogriff, but Harry could see the similarities plainly. And he had an idea how to start maybe building some trust with Ginny so that perhaps, one day, she'd be ready for it all.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

She waited for him in the little café down from the French Ministry that Harry had told her about visiting. The girls that ran it chatted happily with her until Harry walked in, and then they practically tripped over themselves to serve him. Ginny couldn't help but be entranced by him, as well. He was horribly handsome in an casual way, and he didn't take advantage of it, that she'd seen. In fact, his face was completely red as he mumbled through enough of the language to order a cup of coffee and excuse himself to join her.

He slid into the chair across from her, his green eyes flashing.

"Hello."

"Bonjour."

Ginny nearly vibrated with the need to throw herself across the table and kiss him, but discretion was probably called for. They'd already chanced outing their relationship by kissing passionately in the middle of Rue Magique. And although a Muggle cafe was far less public than that, Ginny knew that Ministry workers often frequented the location.

Harry took Ginny's hand in his and she swore he sighed the moment that their skin touched.

"I've missed you."

Ginny hummed in contentment and opened her mouth to reply, but Harry's coffee was delivered by a much less solicitous server. The need to laugh grew as the girls glared at Ginny now. It was clear that they'd fancied Harry a bit when he'd been here before and had been fine with Ginny before they'd realized that she and Harry were together. It was funny and Ginny fought the urge to gloat just a little.

"How was the portkey?"

Harry sipped at his coffee. "Horrible, as always. I can't believe it took me so long to arrange one again."

"A month isn't so long," she lied. In truth, it had been hard to be apart for that long. The letters helped, but she missed him. After only a handful of hours together, he'd wiggled his way into her heart enough that Ginny had nearly counted each and every hour that they'd been apart.

"What do you have planned for us this time?" Harry asked. He scooted his chair around the table, sitting closer to her until their knees touched. The entire time, his fingers had been brushing against hers, as if he were reading her skin, memorizing the feel of it once more.

"I arranged three days off," Ginny said, "but I didn't make many plans."

"No red slicker this time." He smiled and Ginny forced herself to stop staring at him.

"It's not raining nearly as much, anymore. No boots, either." She rested her foot, clad in a little ballet-type shoe, atop Harry's foot and he smiled.

"Pity. I'll miss the red."

"Finish up," she said, "and we'll walk a bit. We need to get away from the Ministry so I can greet you properly."

Harry swallowed his coffee quickly, tipping the entire cup into his mouth. He winced a little at the heat, but then grinned. "What are we waiting for?" He insisted on paying for the pastry that she'd been nibbling at, and then taken her hand as they walked out the door.

"You do realize that I can probably never go back in there again," she said as they walked hand in hand down the street.

"What? Why?" Harry looked back over their shoulder to the café.

Ginny pulled him closer, winding her arm into his and leaning against him. "Those girls were quite taken with you, Mr. Potter. I'm sure they are dreaming of awful things to do to me if I show my face again."

He flushed and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Oh, well...I didn't...I've never…"

Ginny kissed his heating cheek and laughed.

They stopped in a few shops that caught Ginny's eye with their window displays, and Harry offered to buy her something, but Ginny refused and promised that she was just window shopping. The clerks had nearly tripped over themselves to be able to help her find something she liked, but Ginny dismissed them kindly.

"You have a way with the language," Harry said when they were back out on the street. "You make it sound so easy, so fluid. Was it hard to learn?"

Ginny thought back to the first few weeks of being at Beauxbatons, where she spent her time completely alone, disconnected from everyone by the culture and language, and the shattering homesickness that threatened to pull her under every minute of every hour.

"Not so bad," she said. "Madame Maxime gave me separate lessons."

"I've met her," Harry said. "During the-

"Triwizard Tournament," Ginny finished. "I wondered."

They walked for a few steps more, an aching silence between them. "I...I looked for you when their delegation came. I thought...hoped…"

Ginny smiled and gave his arm a little squeeze. "I was too young," she said.

"Would you have wanted to come?"

A familiar twinge echoed in Ginny's heart. "I don't know," she answered. "I dreamed about it and devoured every news article that came out about it, but…"

"I understand," he said. But Ginny wasn't sure he really did. Thankfully, he was letting the subject drop, not pushing her right now. The need to kiss him grew. Ginny began watching the streetlights closely, looking for the symbol that indicated an apparition location.

"I've always been good with languages," she said. "Fred and George taught me a full one when I was little. They told me it was Gobbledegook. For months, I went around speaking it, convinced I was going to be a Goblin Queen one day. Turns out, they'd taught me a whole lot of nonsense and I was running around spouting it like a crazy person."

Harry laughed softly and curled his fingers tighter into hers. "I'd like to have seen that."

The memory was poignant and bittersweet. Ginny felt like she'd been drowning in those types of recollections since Harry had made his way into her life. She'd once been able to contain them, but the box had been broken open and they came often, bringing with them heartache, sadness, and occasionally a fond laugh.

"Here we are." She motioned toward the lamp that showed the symbol they wanted and tugged Harry down into a narrow alleyway where it was safe to apparate from.

Unable to wait a minute more, Ginny went up onto her toes and kissed him. "Tu me manques," she whispered before deepening the kiss.

"What does that mean?" he asked when they'd finally broken apart.

But Ginny just smiled. "I'll tell you another time." Wrapping her arms around him tightly, she apparated them to her flat.

Xxxxx

"The flower looks good."

Ginny had been lying on her belly, her arms wrapped around her pillow, staring at Harry. She turned her head to look at the orchid that sat on her bedside table, in full sunlight from the window. The silly thing almost looked like it was preening. Two new blossoms had opened just this morning as Ginny prepared for Harry's arrival.

"Marie wanted me to keep it out in the main flat, but...I knew it would do better in here, with the morning sun." She didn't mention that her roommate had been going on and on about how the color signified something.

"Le rouge est la couleur de l'amour, Ginny," Marie had been singing for weeks. "He loves you!"

As punishment, Ginny had hid the beautiful flower away where only she could see it and pretend that she hadn't known the legend about the color.

'He chose it because he knows I like red,' Ginny told herself. 'Or, he just ordered one and had no idea what color the florist would choose.'

She turned back toward him, shivering with pleasure when his fingers grazed over the skin on her back. Harry was so casual in his affection for her and Ginny was driving herself crazy with trying to analyze it. He seemed so...practiced, but she knew that he wasn't. His name hadn't been mentioned in the newspapers or tabloids being linked to anyone romantically. Ginny'd tried her best not to check, but she couldn't help it. And nothing had been mentioned in her mother's letters about Harry bringing anyone to dinner.

"I love it," she said, meaning the flower, but also meaning his affection, in a way. Harry looked down at her from where he was propped, wrapped in the sheet from her bed.

"Yeah?"

"It was a real surprise when it came."

Harry looked immensely proud and leaned down to press a kiss to her shoulder. "I wasn't sure, but...you said you loved orchids."

They were quiet for a long time, reveling in the feel of being together and spending a lazy day doing nothing but becoming acquainted with each other. Soft music played from the wireless in the bathroom and Ginny laughed when Harry began humming along.

"You know this song?"

"Yeah. Aunt Petunia would sometimes turn on the radio. I have no idea what the French words say, but I'd imagine it's probably the same."

Ginny sang along with it for a few lines, spurred on by the look in Harry's eyes. He kept asking her to say little things to him in French. It felt a little like foreplay to Ginny, and she kept slipping things in to watch him react.

Harry pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. They continued to kiss and caress slowly, never letting things get too far, until Harry's stomach growled.

"Hungry boy."

"Sorry. Can't help it. I never eat before a portkey, if I can resist. They always make me queasy."

"Eggs?"

"Perfect." He kissed her once more and watched as Ginny slipped from the bed, walking across the room unabashedly to pull her dressing gown from the hook in the bathroom.

"I'll get them started."

"I'm going to take a shower, if you don't mind. Was running late this morning."

Ginny laughed as he gathered the sheet about him like a toga and shuffled across the room. She continued humming the song from before as she gathered the things from the kitchen cupboards to make them a meal. The stovetop was lit with a flick of her wand and the began to heat. Ginny gathered eggs, bacon, cheese, tomatoes and some brioche that Marie had left on the counter a few days ago. If she was hungry, she could only imagine how famished Harry must be after missing breakfast, and now lunch.

Harry joined her, his hair still wet from the shower, and helped finish putting together the plates, sharing soft smiles. They sat next to each other-practically on one seat-and ate.

"What do you have planned for us the rest of the trip?"

"Mmm, nothing specific," Ginny said. "I figured more of what we did today."

A rather wicked smile tipped the edges of Harry's lips. "Sounds good, but we might want to get out a little." There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but he flushed and dismissed the comment.

"Is there anything you'd like to see, specifically?"

"I wouldn't mind seeing the Eiffel Tower," he said. "I mean, I know we saw it from a distance the last time."

"We could do that," she said. "We can wait in line and climb the stairs like regular Muggles, I suppose. Or..."

"Or?"

Ginny sighed and weighed the idea in her head. "Or, I could request a permit through the agency I work for and we could take a midnight broom ride around it."

Harry's face lit. "What...er...what would be involved in requesting a permit? I mean, if the price is an issue-"

"Not at all," Ginny said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We pay a blanket fee, actually, every year, so that's not an issue. It's just...they like to have record of who takes the tours-for security purposes. I'd have to put your name down."

His expression clouded a little. "And is that list public knowledge?"

"It gets filed with the Ministry." Ginny picked at the last bit of her meal. "Unless...well… There is a way around it, but...it would mean playing the celebrity card, a bit, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?"

"We've had some pretty well-known clients want private tours in the past and we can sometimes get away with using an alias as long as there might be a credible threat from the press, or fans, or something. It might be pushing it, since you're able to walk down the street-even Rue Magique-with little in the way of mobbing."

"I'd prefer not to use my name," Harry said. "If the press gets the idea I'm here, and it gets connected back to you..."

Ginny chewed her lip for a moment before giving a firm nod. "Let me see what I can do. Louis owes me a favor after that birthday party I threw for him, and he's the only one who would have an issue with it at all. I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll send an owl and see if he can pull some strings."

"Louis? He's the one from last time, right?"

Ginny laughed. "Yeah. The one you thought I was dating. He's barely eighteen, Harry!"

"How was I supposed to know?!" He poked at her sides, looking for a ticklish spot. "But...Ginny, I don't want to cause problems at your work. It's okay if-"

"No. You want to go. I want to take you. I'll make it happen. I may just need to run to the office to pick up the permit and the brooms."

Harry nodded and thought about that for a long minute. "Is there...is there a way to do it tandem, like the bicycle?"

"We do have a larger broom, but we generally use that for children going up with us."

"I'll stay close. Promise."

They shared a long smile and Ginny knew she'd do whatever she needed to get him up there with her.

Xxxxx

The broom ride around the Eiffel Tower was worth the six tours Ginny had to trade for Louis to put the paperwork through with an alias so that Harry could enjoy it without any press coverage or nosy people watching.

She and Harry hadn't said much on their flight, but had been nearly melded together on the broom. It was still chilly, but they'd bundled up and Harry had kept his arm around her waist. They'd been tired when they'd finally crawled into bed, but wrapped together and slept until later morning.

Harry insisted on taking her out for brunch, rather than letting Ginny cook for him. They'd ridden the bicycle again through the streets of Paris and finally ended up touring a few famous Muggle sites before finishing back at Ginny's flat to make dinner together.

"Your roommate is never around," Harry observed. They were shoulder to shoulder, sitting on the sofa while the dishes washed themselves. There was no music playing, but the assembly line of porcelain and cutlery clinking softly and the whoosh-whoosh of the sudsy water made its own harmony.

"She is," Ginny protested. "But when I told her you were coming she decided to make herself scarce. She doesn't mind. Her family lives a couple of hours away, so she went there for a few days."

"I don't mean to chase her away. That's not very fair; this is her home."

Ginny laid her head on his shoulder. "Oh, don't worry about her. Believe me, I've had to find places to be plenty of times over the years. Marie has a very...active social life."

Harry snorted. "I know the feeling. When Ron and I shared… You probably don't want to hear it."

She was quiet for a moment, contemplating that. She didn't want Harry to have to censor himself all the time just to spare her feelings. And, she was starting to admit that she was curious about her family and the lives they lived beyond the few snippets she got in letters now and again.

"No," she said. "I want to know. Harry...you can tell me anything. It may hurt, but...but I think I need to start dealing with it. I'm beginning to see that I can't hide from this forever. Eventually, I'm going to have to get over this."

"I don't think getting over it is the issue," Harry said. He shifted so that he was facing her, his foot tucked under his other leg. He tugged lightly on the end of her loose hair and wound the ends around his fingers over and over. "I think that anytime someone faces something like you did, they need more than just time to get over it. You've had the time, but you haven't had the emotional support. I don't know everything that went on, obviously, but I can't help but think they were wrong to ship you off."

"It wasn't like that-"

"Wasn't it?" Harry scowled. "All these years, I have to admit, I never understood. I...I blamed you-not for the Chamber-but for not being with your family. No one ever told me what happened, or what was going on."

"It wasn't their fault," Ginny protested. "I told you why I stayed away." Her heart was racing and Ginny wasn't sure she could face this after all. It was different hearing little bits and pieces of their everyday, verses dealing with the feelings of abandonment and betrayal. And Harry still didn't know how she'd been pushing them away for years, too.

"Both parties are at fault," Harry amended. "And I'm not going to take sides; I've done enough of that." He sounded a bit disgusted with himself and Ginny pondered that. He may not blame her for the Chamber, but it was clear that he had held some pretty deep feelings about Ginny being absent from her family.

"Tell me about Ron."

"I think we should talk about your family and what happened."

Ginny bristled. "Harry, I...not tonight, alright? We've had such a good visit."

"We have," he agreed, "but this doesn't have to change that. And we can't keep putting off the conversations. Ginny, you need to deal with-"

"You don't need to save me, Harry."

Immediately, she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Harry flinched as if she'd hit him. But it was the truth.

"I'm not trying to-"

Ginny pushed off the sofa and began to pace in the room. "That's exactly what you're trying to do."

"Stop pushing me away," Harry said. His jaw was clenched and his fists were white as they sat in his lap. "You're doing just what you did to them."

She winced. It was a fair assessment, but GInny wasn't in the mood to fight fair right now. "Maybe I'm happy here where I am. Did you ever think of that? Maybe I don't need my family sticking their nose into everything."

"You don't mean that-"

"Don't I? Ginny threw up her hands. "If I lived there they'd all be telling me how to live, what to do with my life, who to date...it would never stop."

"It's not that bad. They...they mean well-"

"See? They even do it to you! Merlin, maybe it was good for me to get out when I did!"

Harry stood and ran his hands through his hair. "They're your family! Families care about each other, Ginny. Of course, they'd want to be involved-they do now!-but it's only because they love you."

She couldn't argue with that. Ginny just shook her head. "Listen, Harry-"

"And I don't buy for one minute that you're happy here, Ginny. If you were, then you'd want nothing to do with me."

"That's rich," she snorted. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just like you? Or maybe not. Maybe I just needed someone to shag."

Harry's jaw nearly popped from all the grinding his teeth were doing. "I suppose now is where we get to the point where we say things that we don't really mean. I won't say something that's not true, Ginny, just so that I can hurt you. I like you. I like being with you-"

"Stop! Just stop!"

"What?"

"Stop trying to save everyone. You can't! You can't..._save_ me."

Harry looked down at his feet, obviously feeling the sting of her words down to his bones. "What if I want to save you?" he said. "What if you're the most important one to save?"

Ginny's shoulders slumped and her head bowed, even as her fingers still clenched together in front of her. "How do you always do that?" she whispered. "You steal everything I'm mad about and just...just twist it until I can't think straight anymore."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Ginny's head was a mass of swirling thoughts clouded with emotion. He really was trying to save her, but not for the reasons that she'd assumed. It wasn't out of some sort of sense of loyalty to the Weasley family-or maybe it wasn't _all_ about that-but he genuinely cared for Ginny.

"I just want to sit next to you and listen to everything you could ever say about anything ever, because I like you, Ginny, and I love your stories, and your voice, and...and your face...and the fact that you just...exist."

"Harry-"

"And, yeah. I guess I am trying to save you." He moved closer, his hand held out in front of him as if she was a skittish animal, ready to bolt at any minute. "But it's because I think you're worth saving."

She let him pull her into an embrace and her tears fell against the warm fabric of his t-shirt. "I'm not, I promise."

"I don't care what you think," Harry said as he smoothed her hair. "I think differently."

"I...I can't…"

"I push you because I know you can handle it, Ginny. I push because I want...I want you to stop hurting. And I want you to be okay. I don't want you to flinch everytime I mention your family. And I don't want you living out your life in exile because you've got this idea stuck in your head that it's okay to punish yourself. It's not. The past...it hurts, believe me, I know. And it's not fair what happened to you, or to any of us. But to put blame on anyone except who it belongs with, that's not right."

"How...how do I...?"

"I don't know," Harry said. He clung to her just as tightly as she clung to him and Ginny felt herself really take a breath. Harry was her anchor right now, the harbor she could rest in, if only for a short time before he would be gone again.

"But we'll keep trying," he promised. Gently, he lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. "I'm far too stubborn to give up. And you're a fighter, too."

"I'm tired, Harry," she admitted. "Tired of fighting."

"I know. Let me fight for awhile, alright?" he said. "You just...you just try to find your strength while I carry you for a bit. And then, when you're ready, we'll stand up together and face what we need to face."

"It might be a long time."

"No, it won't," he said, a smile gracing his lips. "You're stronger than that. And...we're strong together. Just stop pushing me away."

Ginny couldn't answer. She nodded and burrowed into his embrace. Her entire body felt drained, but she continued to cry against him. Harry extinguished the lights with a spell and guided her to the bedroom. He helped her undress in the pale light of the moonlight streaming through her stained glass window.

"I love that window," he whispered as he crawled into bed behind her and gathered her into his arms. "I want one at my flat just like it."

Curiosity broke through the tension between them. "Does your bedroom face the morning light?"

"The window that's there right now doesn't," he said. "Maybe I'll make a new one."

xxxxx

Charlie was running late, but Ginny wasn't surprised; he generally was, mostly because portkeys from Romania weren't necessarily reliable unless you slipped a government official a little extra money under the table. And since Charlie liked to cause a little contention now and again, he wasn't above pointing out the corruption, even while standing in the portkey line. He'd been detained and had body cavities searched more than anyone, he liked to brag. Ginny wasn't sure why that was a record one would want, but Charlie was a different sort.

Ginny would wait patiently for him at Amis Enchantés. It was her day off, but Charlie liked the food there, so she'd offered to meet him and pay for lunch when he'd owled that he was going to be coming through France.

Spring had finally fully arrived in Paris and Ginny was enjoying the beautiful skies, the trees in bloom, and the flowers that seemed to be everywhere. She wished Harry could get away and spend the entire month-or even more than a few days-with her, but it wasn't meant to be. Now that the research side of his case had wrapped up, he had no official reason to travel to France and was still trying to work out how to get back here.

Ginny felt the pressing bubble of change headed her way, but wasn't sure exactly what it would bring. After Harry's last visit, and their revealing argument, Ginny could see the way that he'd been gently leading her toward the idea of moving back to England, even if he wasn't being overt about it. She'd asked him in a letter that he had yet to answer.

"Bonjour!" Ines and Jules, the other bartender for the café, passed by as they entered to begin their shifts. They invited her in to have a drink with them, but Ginny waved them off.

"J'attends mon frère."

Ines leaned over the little fence that separated the patio from the sidewalk and kissed her on both cheeks before they left her alone again.

Ginny sipped at her pumpkin juice and slouched a little in the chair, basking in the warm sunlight. She saw Charlie coming as he walked down the street and watched the casual, loping style of walk that he had. He was short, like she was, but broad in the shoulders with thick limbs. Charlie had always been a little different than the other Weasley brothers. He was quieter, but had a fun-loving side that rivaled the twins. He liked to watch things unfold around him, seemingly innocent, until you realized that he'd been behind any sort of chaos and shenanigans from the very beginning.

"Hello, Fluture," he said as he approached, hopped the low fence, and settled into the seat across from her, his thick forearms resting on the small table. "Do that magic that you do and get me something to eat."

"Hello, Charlie. Any particular requests?" He was ravenous and food came first when they met up. Always.

"That sample platter full of cheeses and meats-you know the one. And a beer. A good one. Make it two." He sighed in contentment and Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing. She took the little writing tablet on the table and used the quill to record her order. After tapping it with her wand, she watched the ink disappear into the paper. It was a simple charm that Amis Enchantés had for ordering-the order would now appear on a board in the kitchen where the chef could see it and pass it along to the bartenders, too. Despite the fact that she'd gotten used to it after all the years of working here, Ginny still hated watching the ink dissolve into the paper. It reminded her too much of the diary.

"Are you ever going to tell me what that means?"

"What?"

"That name you call me."

Charlie smiled, his freckled face so like hers. "You'll have to learn to speak Romanian."

Ginny called him an ugly name in French, and he just laughed. "And you'll have to learn French to know what I just said."

"Don't have to," he said. "I can guess."

"How are you?"

"Good." He launched into a story about the dragon preserve and how his boss had been talking about promoting him. Ginny listened, but only halfway. He'd already told her most of this in his most recent letter, anyway. But Charlie liked to talk when he was comfortable.

"How about you?"

"Good." Ginny didn't elaborate and Charlie's eyebrow rose slowly, waiting for more.

"That's it?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah, I mean...things are good."

"You always have a story about work, or your crazy roommate, or shopping, or something," Charlie scolded. "I come all this way to see you and I get 'good.' Things are either better or worse. They're seldom just good."

Ginny thought about what she could say to him. Things were better than good-her relationship with Harry was the highlight of everything that was going on. But things were also worse-the past was encroaching more and more. Harry had begun being more persistent in his letters, asking questions that needed real answers, not evasive ones.

Ines saved her from answering by floating a platter of food and drinks out to them. She stayed and flirted a little with Charlie, who shamelessly flirted back, before disappearing into the café again.

"I like her."

"She'd devour you like one of your dragons, you daft boy," Ginny warned. "Ines is...on the far side of wild."

Charlie laughed. "I can handle wild."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Please spare me the stories. I honestly don't want to think about the things that happen over there on that preserve."

He laughed and drank from his beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nah, the preserve is pretty tame. We're all busy most of the time. It's in town where you need to watch yourself. There's this one woman-"

"Don't, Charlie!" Ginny winced. "I really don't want to know."

He laughed even louder and stuffed a bite of cheese and meat into his mouth. "I was just going to say that she hosts a good party."

"Right." Ginny picked at the edges of Charlie's platter, taking small bites from what he was devouring.

"There's really nothing more that you can say other than 'good'?"

Ginny sighed and let her head rest against the back of the chair. She took Charlie's second beer and drank from it. He just smiled at her and she knew she'd likely be ordering at least one more round, probably of food, too.

"Good is...about as good as it gets with me, Charlie."

"Don't get me started on that, Ginny." He gave her a knowing look and they sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Do you...do you think I close myself off?"

"Yes."

"Ouch."

Charlie sighed and leaned forward, looking over the remains of the food on the platter, being picky now about what he ate. "I don't lie to you, Ginny. Never have."

"I know." She sighed and looked down at her hands, noticing how bad her nails were and vowed to stop chewing on them. It was a promise that she made often and broke all the time.

"I think," Charlie said carefully, "that you're a little bit broken inside, still. And I think that's okay. We all are, honestly. But I also think that you worry about letting people into your life. You don't want to be responsible when they get hurt, because you always think that they will."

"Everyone gets hurt, Charlie," she answered, "even in a good relationship. We're human and we don't always watch what we say." Ginny thought about when Harry had been here last and she'd said those awful things to him about saving people and how she wasn't worth saving, and how she wasn't in their relationship for anything more than sex. She hadn't meant it, but Harry had been hurt all the same. Luckily, there was something about Harry Potter that could work through the hurt to get to the real problem. And maybe they hadn't fixed it all before he left, but they were at least better.

"Yeah, we all do stupid things. And our choices aren't always the best, but you can't protect everyone. I'm not even sure you realize you're doing it."

"I know very well what I'm doing," said Ginny. "It's been pointed out to my recently."

"That's good," said Charlie. "We all need a kick in the arse now and again. But I'm also talking about how you try to protect other people by limiting your connections with them. You saw what it did when you went to someone you loved and trusted with something big. You told Percy about the diary, and then he ended up getting killed."

"Don't," she whispered.

"But that wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could do to stop it, or even to mitigate Percy's actions. He made his own choices, Ginny. You don't seem to see that in the situation."

"Don't blame him," she bit out. "It wasn't his fault." Harry had pointed out something similar when they'd talked before, but Ginny wasn't ready to lay the blame at anyone's feet but her own.

"Why not? He was acting like a prat. There were people he could have gone to that would have helped. Instead, like he always did, Percy handled it himself."

"He was trying to protect me."

"Maybe," said Charlie, "but now can you see that his choices played a part in this? What about the twins? They saw that something was going on with you and didn't say anything. And Ron-"

"Not their fault." Ginny ground her teeth together, wondering if Charlie would bring Harry into it, too. She didn't think she could handle that. Harry, out of everyone, deserved to be left out of it. Merlin, he had saved her!

"What I'm saying, Ginny, is that you need to see the entire picture, not just the pieces that involve you."

"I'm being prideful," Ginny said. Harry had told her as much when he'd called her Claudine.

"Yeah, you are."

She winced and sat back in the chair. All of these thoughts swirled in her brain, making her heart race. Harry had been right. She was being proud and she'd let it get in the way of her relationships with everyone.

"What you went through…" Charlie shook his head and ran his scarred hand over his face. "Nobody should have had to do that, but...you did. And you're still alive-"

"Thanks to Harry."

"Yes, thanks to Harry. But you've survived because of _you_. Harry pulled you out of that place, but it's been you that's held yourself together for this long."

"I'm not together," Ginny protested. "Far from it, I assure you."

"That's something you can fix."

Ginny let his words wash over her. Charlie excused himself to use the loo and offered to bring back more food and drink. She just nodded absently as she thought about what he'd said.

Harry thought the same thing. Harry saw that she wasn't broken beyond repair, and he was offering to help her fix things. But it was ultimately up to Ginny to begin taking the steps.

Charlie returned a long time later, startling Ginny when he plopped another full tray of food down.

"I have a date tonight."

Ginny fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm telling you she's-"

"I can handle myself, thank you very much."

"Fine."

"Fine."

They both broke into smiles.

"Did you…"

"What?"

"Did you know about the plan to bring me to France?"

"Not until after."

Ginny hummed and nodded slowly. "And did you agree?"

"In a way," he said. "I understood the desire to want to protect you, as much as possible. We all felt helpless."

"But was sending me away the way to do it?"

"Hindsight is always easier," Charlie said. "It worked, in a way. You didn't have to fight in the war. And you were protected."

Ginny snorted and shook her head. "Ickle Ginny wrapped in cotton wool and tucked away for safekeeping."

Charlie's forehead crinkled as he thought about what she'd said. And Ginny hadn't meant it to sound so bitter. She'd been running the gamut of emotions lately with trying to get it all straight in her head, and oftentimes anger won out more than anything else. Anger was easy because she could let that strong feeling push away everything else.

"Let me ask you a question."

"Sure."

"Okay, two, then. First, why are you okay talking about this right now? You've never let me talk to you about this before. And, two, did _you_ protest when mum and dad told you they were bringing you here?"

Ginny opened her mouth to snap out a response but then thought about it. She'd agreed with them, mostly because she'd overheard them talking about how broken she was and how there could still be darkness inside her.

"No, I didn't."

"Why not?"

The back of her eyes burned with unshed tears and Ginny swallowed past a thick throat. "Because...because I believed they were right."

Charlie sighed and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "What about now? Do you still think they were right?"

She wanted to answer yes, mostly because she'd always thought so, but Harry's insistence that she was worth saving was beginning to take hold deep inside her heart.

"I don't...I don't know. It's hard to say because I was protected, like you said. I was safe. And yet, I've had to deal with all of this on my own. And I know a whole lot of that is self-inflicted; that's been pointed out to me, too."

"Thank Merlin someone's getting through that thick head of yours."

"No thicker than yours." The barb melted into the air between them bringing them back into familiar territory.

"Ten years is a long time, Ginny. Maybe it's time to start thinking about-"

"I am."

"-forgiving them."

Ginny gaped at him. "Is that what you think I've been doing all this time, punishing them?! Charlie...it's more about punishing myself, I assure you."

"Then start forgiving yourself," he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world to do.

"Easier said than done."

"I know."

"Charlie...did you leave because you couldn't forgive them for something? Is that why-"

"Me?" He laughed. "No. I left because I'm a barmy arse who loves dragons."

They finished eating-Charlie ate most of the second plate, also-and then he sat back again.

"Help me kill a few hours before my date, will you? Maybe one day you'll find your own bloke and we can go out together. On second thought, no."

"You don't think I should be dating?"

"Oh, I don't care if you date, I just don't want you hanging around while I work on my moves."

Ginny tried not to laugh, but it was just so hard when Charlie made her feel better. "You're disgusting. Don't forget that I have to work with her, please?!"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Harry had been in to his office for over an hour before he was supposed to be. The completed research file-the on he'd been hiding for over a month-was sitting in the middle of his desk, ready to hand over to Arthur.

There was an overwhelming amount of guilt tied to this pile of parchment. Harry'd lied to Arthur about not getting his work done, about having to return to France, and also about having met Ginny and starting a relationship with her. He hadn't slept at all since returning yesterday and spent all night trying to justify his behavior.

Nothing, other than the progress that Ginny was making, could.

He wanted to be able to stand in front of the Weasley family one day and explain that his lying had been for a good cause, and then reveal that Ginny was whole again, that she'd come back to be with them, and then everyone could be healed and things would be...better.

He could never bring back Percy or Fred, but he could help Ginny come back. And, if it meant that he got to be with her, that was just a bonus. He never let himself think about the possibility that Ginny might never want to move back to live by her family.

Arthur came through the doorway, still wearing his overcoat and hat. "You're in early," he said. After levitating his things onto a hook near the door, he turned to see Harry watching him intently.

"Yeah, er...I wanted to finish this report."

"Oh, good. I take it that France turned out to be a little more promising this last visit?"

"Er, yes. Yes. Promising."

Harry stood and fidgeted before snatching the file off his desk and shoving it toward Arthur. "I...I feel that I should apologize. I've been distracted lately and this...this should have been done a long time ago."

Arthur peered at him, his forehead furrowing. "Harry, we all have times when we're not-"

"I shouldn't have let it get in the way." Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and then pulled them out, worried that his restlessness would lead him to spilling every secret he'd ever had.

"Let's take a look at this, shall we? Perhaps we can find something that will help us find who is behind all of this."

Harry nodded quickly and pulled his chair closer to Arthur's desk. He had done a little more investigating while in France this last time, mostly to assuage his guilt and because he'd had a bit of a hunch about the location of the original merchant services address used on the business registration in France. Lefurgey had been surprisingly helpful in providing Harry with the address and Ginny had taken him there on the afternoon before he'd left.

"I see what you're saying," Arthur said when Harry had filled him in on the home listed in the French records. "And nobody was there?"

"It was completely abandoned," Harry explained, "and appeared to have been for some time. We-I mean, I-did some spell tracing and there were faint echoes, but they appear to be older than the time frame we are looking for here."

"Ah, yes, I see that," Arthur said. He adjusted his glasses and let his finger run down the record of spells that Harry had made. "What makes you think-"

"In the back of the home was a bit of property. I poked around a little and discovered a small tool shed that looked unremarkable from the outside. But after I entered-er, that part isn't in the report," he said feeling his face heat a little. "I, er, had to do a little bit of-"

"Nothing to worry about, Harry," Arthur dismissed. "It's not out of the ordinary for us to be...creative...when doing investigations such as this one."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "I just don't want to bollux it up with the French, you know."

"Quite. Well, what did you find?"

"A whole series of owl perches, and an area that appeared to be lived in. Stacks of newspapers everywhere. The shed had been magicked larger on the inside."

"Clever. Owls, you say? What the devil…?"

"I don't rightfully understand it either, to be honest, sir." He got a stern look over the glasses in response to his 'sir', but Harry didn't feel he could help it. He was so nervous and worried about revealing too much. He already felt like he was on thin ice with his job. He hadn't even turned in any receipts to be reimbursed for this last trip; it just didn't feel right.

"Was there an address associated with the German case?"

"Not that we were aware. It's something that we can ask them about now that we've found this, although I don't think it requires another trip."

"No, this can be done another way." Arthur scratched the back of his bald head. "We can do a little more digging here on our end. Perhaps there is an address that can be found here that will help us make sense of the connection, as well as these other clues."

"I wasn't sure," Harry said. "I thought perhaps this might be a ring of people, for awhile, but now I think it might be just one wizard. From the beginning, the case looked so much bigger, but…"

"But it's amazing the amount of damage that one determined witch or wizard can do, isn't it?"

"I just don't get what's in it for him," Harry said. He and Ginny had discussed it the entire way back from checking out the abandoned house, with neither gaining any insight. "Beyond the little bit of money, I mean."

"Well, it's not that little a sum," Arthur said. "If he's been patient, which it appears he has, then he's taking a little here, a little there. It doesn't seem like much, but with months of doing it from almost every customer, almost every store, it can add up quickly. And then you add in that he's done this through three countries, at least…"

"I suppose," Harry said. Luckily, his frustration with the case had somewhat taken his mind off the secrets he was carrying.

"We'll just have Tonks get us some of these addresses, shall we?"

"She still doesn't have any cases?" Harry was surprised at how little they'd been using Tonks. She'd been injured during the Final Battle-had barely survived, in fact-but she'd been back to the Ministry a few months later, only assigned to desk duty. And that had been several years ago. "I just never saw her as the sit-back-and-wait type."

"No," Arthur said, "but becoming a parent changes things. You...you take a hard look at your priorities and decide whether the risks you need to take are worth it, or not. Perhaps Tonks has decided that Teddy has lost enough in life and that running about all over England right now is not the best way to be his mother."

Harry had never really considered that angle of looking at it before, and now he could see the way that Tonks had changed over the past little while. "Are she and Bill still…."

"As far as we've been told, they are just good friends," Arthur said, "but Molly has gotten enough gossip from Andromeda to discover that Bill eats there more times than not, and that little Teddy has a particular affection for Egypt, at the moment."

"I could have told you that," Harry said with a laugh. "It's all he talks about, lately."

"Well, as long as my children are happy…" Arthur trailed off and cleared his throat.

"Bill is...he's a good man."

Arthur gave a grateful smile and nodded his head. "Yes, he is."

Harry chewed his lip and tried to gather the courage to ask the question that had been rattling around in his brain since coming back from France the first time.

"What...what happened with Ginny, Mr. Weasley?"

Arthur was quiet for a long time and Harry almost wanted to retract his question, to turn back time and stop himself from asking because it had caused pain to the man he loved like a father. But something told him to wait.

"I failed my daughter, Harry. As a parent, I have one job in life, and I didn't do that for Ginny."

"Mr. Weasley-"

"We all knew something was wrong," he continued, talking over Harry. "We could tell there was something...off in her letters. We thought it was just homesickness, or maybe...hormonal issues. We asked Percy to take her to Madam Pomfrey, and that seemed to work, for a bit. But I should have...I should have gone up there. I should have listened to my gut, Harry, when my daughter was falling further and further away from us."

"We all failed, Mr. Weasley," Harry said. "Ron and I-"

"You were twelve, Harry. We don't blame you."

Harry clamped his lips closed. He did feel some guilt over what had happened, but, like he'd told Ginny, there were so many other factors to be taken into consideration. And it was quite clear that Harry only knew part of the story. This might be his only chance to hear it, so he needed to use it.

"After she came home, we watched her so closely, so carefully. I used to sit outside her door at night. And it tore me apart to hear my baby crying, calling out for help."

The back of Harry's eyes burned. He had to close them to compose himself.

"I would go in as much as I could, but it was taking a toll on the whole house, being woken over and over again. Molly and I tried not to let it show, but… I overheard Ginny begging Bill and then Charlie to do a silencing spell on her room. After awhile the nightmares seemed to disappear, but I think she just convinced one or the other of them to do it."

Charlie, Harry told himself. It had to be. Bill wouldn't have done it.

"We wrote to Professor Dumbledore, asking for help. We were worried about how the next year at school would go. Ginny didn't seem to have any friends there. Hermione told us that her roommates were...distant, uninvolved."

Harry tried to remember the girls who had been in Ginny's dorm, but none of them stood out in his memory. Had she really been alone all year and Harry had never noticed?

"He came and we discussed many different options, even keeping her home for a year, or moving her into the dorm with Hermione. And we were also worried..." Arthur shook his head, removed his glasses, and pressed his fingers into his eyes. "That type of dark magic...it can sometimes leave a mark. Not...not like your scar, mind you, but a deeper one. One etched upon a soul."

"I understand."

"I knew you would. We worried that Ginny might have lasting issues that would damage her in the future. The press wasn't helpful, coming out with all those stories-"

Harry sat up sharply. "Stories? I don't remember…" But he wouldn't have. He'd been locked away at Privet Drive, dealing with Aunt Marge and her nonsense.

"Rita Skeeter had gotten wind of the possession and-"

"I can only imagine," Harry growled.

"Professor Dumbledore came time and again, helping us set better wards on the Burrow and we kept discussing options. Up until almost the end of July we were still planning to send her to Hogwarts, but then...we began getting threatening letters. I had my suspicions about where they were coming from, but nothing to prove it."

"Who?"

"I'm sure you can guess."

The only ones who came to mind were Malfoy and his followers, but Harry wasn't sure if they would have been bold enough… Nevermind. They were definitely stupid enough to do something like that. 

"Yes. I can."

Arthur slipped his glasses back on. "We second-guessed everything. Would Ginny be safe enough at Hogwarts? Would she be able to overcome what had been done to her? She wouldn't even go into the broom shed, you know. She used to love flying, but after that…" He trailed off, a strange look on his face. "I'm not sure if she ever flew again, to be honest."

Harry wanted to tell him that she flew all the time, that she had calluses on her hands from the particular way she held a broom, that her very own Firebolt leaned in the corner of her bedroom, that she had Quidditch posters tacked to her walls, and that flying with her was the best memory Harry had in a very long time. But he couldn't say a word.

"Finally, a solution came. Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons had heard about Ginny's situation, through Albus, no doubt, and offered...well, she offered a safe place, protection, and a haven away from all that we were dealing with. We...we didn't want to. Merlin, we talked for days before deciding. And even then, we talked ourselves out of it a hundred times."

"It would only be for a year, maybe two, we decided. Just until Ginny began to show some more life. Madam Maxime promised to keep a special eye on her, to make sure she was involved in her classes and had good, supportive people around her."

"But it wasn't only a year," Harry said.

Mr. Weasley was slow to answer. "No. After that first year, Ginny's letters became...better. She talked more about school, about friends. We thought...we thought we'd made the right choice in sending her away. So, we asked if she wanted to stay for another year. She seemed so...enthusiastic about it."

Harry felt a hollowness in his chest. Ginny had been a good actress. She'd lied to them, convinced them that she was fine, thriving, even. But Harry alone knew the truth, knew how much she'd struggled and fought for every small victory. And he suspected that she hadn't even been fully honest with him, either.

"She was safe there," Arthur said as he banged his fist on the desk. "She was protected and happy. What more could we ask?"

They sat in aching silence, both hurting as the events played out in their minds. Harry wondered if Arthur suspected there was more to Ginny's story or if he was just as lost as they had all been without her. Harry had never realized the size and depth of the hole that was left in the Weasley family with Ginny gone, but he was starting to see it's echoes in everything.

"But slowly, we began to notice a change in her. She grew more...distant, more preoccupied with things over there-friends, school, even boyfriends. I tried to be happy for her. This is what we wanted, after all, a _normal_ life." He nodded slowly, but still looked so disconnected from it all. "She started asking to stay there for holidays. At first, it had been for her safety, but then...it was at her request. It nearly broke Molly's heart, but we tried to honor Ginny's requests as much as possible. We'd failed her so thoroughly before…"

"No!" Harry was unable to stay silent any longer. "No. It was Voldemort. Damned Voldemort." He stood and tugged at his hair, leaning against the wall.

Arthur gave a sad smile to him. "I know. You, more than anyone, understand how much he could take from one person."

"That's not...I'm not trying to compare-"

"I know," said Arthur. "But you have a perspective that maybe we should have asked about before all of this…" He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I would change so many things, so many things."

Harry took his seat again, propping himself up on the desk by his elbows. He felt drained, as if he'd run a long, long way, and still had so far to go.

"After the war, well, we thought she'd come home. We thought for the funerals...but Ginny had her own ideas. She...she said she was too busy, that...that it was too hard to get away. They sit their tests at the end of their sixth year, and Ginny...she said she needed to be there, needed to take them or her schooling would all be wasted. Molly nearly...well, you remember how she was."

And Harry did. Molly had gone to bed for a very long time and Arthur had been left to run the household. The boys did what the could, even Harry had taken his turns helping around the house.

"There were some rather harsh letters sent back and forth, I'm ashamed to say." Arthur's eyes were red and he looked so very tired. And old, as if he'd aged a dozen years in the past hour.

"I went over there once, just as Ginny was beginning her final year. She seemed...happy, content. By then, I fear the damage had already been done. Ginny said she wasn't planning to come home at all. Nothing I said could convince her to change her mind. I never told Molly that I went; it's the only lie I've ever told my wife in our marriage, Harry. And, Merlin help me, I'll never tell her if I don't have to. She can't know how…"

Harry could only imagine what Ginny'd said to get her father to go. It had obviously broken both of them.

"So, we write letters," Arthur finally said, "and we plan trips over there that we'll never take. She's made it clear that she doesn't want us there. I'm trying my best to respect that, even if I don't understand it."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Weasley."

Arthur gave a tight smile and nodded his thanks. "I haven't given up hope. One day, maybe she'll change her mind. My job, as a parent, is to continue to love her and to be here when she decides to come home."

Harry couldn't say anything more; his throat had nearly closed with emotion. Silently, he promised to bring her home, even if it was only for a visit.

Xxxxx

"These directions make absolutely no sense." Harry held up the parchment blueprints to the light, turned them to the left, then to the right. Then, just for good measure, he glanced at the back, to make sure he wasn't reading them backwards. Nothing seemed to help.

"Alright, let's start again." He laid the parchment on his bedroom floor and tried to decide how best to do this. Honestly, when he'd decided to actually go forward with the project, he'd planned on just making a hole in the wall and then...sticking a window in it?

The wizard at the building permit desk in the Ministry had been the one to suggest that ordering a Spell-It-Yourself Building Kit would be a better way to go. Having no experience in DIY, other than occasionally overhearing a snippet of the shows that Aunt Petunia liked to watch, Harry was clueless.

The kit had shown up by owl just this morning and Harry had set about moving all of the furniture out of his bedroom, per the first suggestion on the instruction parchment.

But step two must have been written in Gobbledegook. "I should ask Ginny to interpret," he said with a chuckle.

"Harry?"

"Bugger." Harry threw up his hands and went to greet Ron, who had just walked through the front door. Ron never knocked, just walked in. Harry supposed that was because they used to share the flat, but if Harry convinced Ginny to move in with him, like he wanted to, Ron was going to have to get used to knocking.

Ron was standing in the living room when Harry entered. They'd both been busy over the last few weeks, so Harry didn't feel bad about having sort of evaded his friend when Ron offered to meet up. Harry'd claimed a tough work schedule, which wasn't untrue, as they were still trying to find that wizard who was scamming Muggles. But he could have met Ron and Seamus for a pint the other night, he just hadn't wanted to. Ginny had sent a letter and he'd spent most of the evening reading and rereading it like some sappy fool. It didn't help that she'd sent along some charmed photos of a shopping trip she and Marie had made to Dentelle Et Boutons, that questionable lingerie shop in Rue Magique. Harry had those photos hidden away under lock and key.

"'Lo, Ron."

"Lo, yourself," Ron growled at him.

Harry scowled. "What's with you?"

Ron slowly lifted a thin, black cane, waving it slightly and glaring at Harry. In his other hand he had an open Butterbeer bottle.

"Oh. Yeah. I'd forgotten about that."

"I won't forget anytime soon," said Ron, "and neither will my knees." He heaved the cursed cane at Harry, who caught it in midair.

"Surprised it's still intact, honestly. I'd have figured you would bash it to pieces."

"Wanted to," Ron said. He drained a good portion of his drink and limped toward the sofa, where he plopped down. The old sofa-one that George had donated to Harry and Ron when they'd first gotten the flat-creaked and groaned under the weight. "But the barmy thing kept avoiding me."

Harry spun the cane in his fingers. "Think we could ship it to Malfoy?"

Ron snorted Butterbeer through his nose in a laugh. "Best not to," he said. "He's kept his nose clean lately, hasn't he?"

Harry nodded and stuck the cane into the cushions of the sofa, standing upright. "Yeah, as far as I know."

"What're you up to today? Not at work?"

"Not today." Harry got his own Butterbeer and slouched into the chair across from Ron. It was a Muggle recliner, the type that Uncle Vernon had but had never allowed Harry to get near. Harry'd bought his own, ignoring Ron's laughter about it. And, nobody knew, but he'd charmed it (with Arthur's help) to warm up in the winter, cool in the summer, and give a decent massage.

"Dad's been a real taskmaster on this one, yeah?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder. "Not so much. I just want to find this wizard."

"Yeah, but two trips abroad in just a few weeks? That's pretty odd for a case like that."

Harry swallowed his mouthful and tried to look nonchalant. "Maybe. Some cases are like that."

They chatted for a few minutes about Quidditch-the teams were just beginning to really get into their competitive seasons and Ron had arranged tickets for a Chudley game next week.

"I, er...don't think I'm going to be in town, mate," Harry said. He picked at a loose thread in the recliner. "I've got to go back-"

"Again?" Ron sat up sharply, his expression turning to a scowl.

Harry bristled. "I don't get all pissy when you're called away for work, do I?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Knock, knock!" Hermione did knock, but having heard their voices, she'd opened the door and entered. She stopped upon feeling the tension in the room.

"Hello, Hermione," said Harry. He was trying not to be irritated with Ron's possessiveness. He reminded himself that Ron had no idea how important it was for Harry to get back to France.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing-"

"They're sending Harry back to France."

"Oh." Hermione removed her sweater and came to sit next to Ron, eyeing the cursed cane warily. "That is unusual."

"There are some loose ends in France that I need to tie up," Harry said. "I just don't feel right leaving it-"

"Of course not," Hermione said. "I mean, it's for work-"

"Yeah, but we'd planned on going to the game!" Ron was in full pouting mode now, glaring at both Hermione and Harry. "And he's gone all the time. He never does anything with us anymore."

"I do so," Harry protested. "I went to lunch with Hermione just the other day."

"He did," Hermione confirmed, "even if he was a bit distracted-"

"Hey!"

Hermione gave him a look. "I'm sorry, Harry, but you were!"

"See?" Ron gave a smug look and Harry drained the rest of his drink before standing.

"I need to get back to what I was doing," Harry said. "Unless you'd like to complain about that, too."

"Harry-" Hermione stood and followed Harry back down the hallway to his bedroom. She stopped when she saw the mess that he'd made with the furniture stacked against one wall and the plans laid out on the floor. "What're you doing?"

Ron appeared at the doorway, another Butterbeer dangling from his fingers. "Building something?"

Harry picked up the blueprints and pretended that he could read them. "Trying to. I'm just...not really good with this kind of thing."

Hermione huffed and snatched them out of his hands, ignoring his protests. "Did you even read the instructions?"

"Some of them," Harry quipped back. Ron snorted and came to stand next to Harry as Hermione peered at the small writing and mumbled to herself.

"Should have called her in the first place, mate," said Ron. "She'll have it sorted in no time."

"Probably."

"What is it for? A wardrobe?"

"A window," Harry admitted reluctantly. "I need...more light in here."

Ron hummed and watched as Hermione tapped her wand on the plans and the ink from them flowed off the parchment and right onto the wall where Harry'd been planning to install the window.

"Now, all you need is to follow the instructions. I assume you have the proper building permits?"

Harry reached into his back pocket and extracted the parchment, waving it around triumphantly.

"There's no need to be smug," Hermione scolded. "Now, do you think you can manage, or do you need me to do it all for you?"

"There's no need to be smug," Harry mimicked back to her. He pulled his wand and moved toward the wall where the first step of the plan was highlighted in a glowing pink.

"How about I go get us some take away?" Hermione suggested, sounding a little more contrite. "We can work on this together."

Harry felt bad. She'd helped him immensely. Merlin, he'd probably still be staring at that ruddy parchment come midnight if it weren't for her.

"Thank you, Hermione," he mumbled. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit...edgy lately."

"Apology accepted."

"Get us some beer while you're out, love," Ron said as he pressed a kiss to Hermione's cheek. "Us working blokes will need refreshment soon."

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled before leaving. Harry heard the door close and turned to look at Ron.

"Ready?" Ron pulled his wand and they began following the steps to removing layers of the wall a piece at a time.

"I know I've been gone loads," Harry said after a while. They'd made a right mess all over the floor, but it felt good to tear into a project. And the instructions said nothing about cleaning up, anyway. Harry would worry about it later.

"S'okay," Ron mumbled. "George's had me hopping, too."

"Yeah? Business is good?"

"Looking at a new location in Hogsmeade," Ron said.

"Hey!" Harry said. "That's amazing."

"Yeah."

They worked in quiet for awhile more before Ron turned to Harry. "Tell me the truth," he said. "Are you really going over there for work?"

Harry, who was charming away the outside layer of siding on the flat, faltered and nearly dropped it into the garden. Carefully, he levitated it inward, adding it to their rubbish pile. "What do you mean?"

Ron wouldn't meet his gaze. "I mean...I figure maybe you met someone over there. Some girl."

"Ron…"

"I mean, you don't have to tell me," Ron continued. "If you feel like you need to keep it secret…"

"It's not secret," Harry burst out. "I mean...that's not...it's not…"

Ron eyed him with a knowing look and Harry slumped in defeat. He'd really messed that up.

"Does she work at the Ministry? Some crazy Auror bird?"

Harry concentrated on removing the last of the obstacles that would impede the window. There wasn't much for it now. Harry'd been distracted and Ron had timed his interrogation perfectly.

"No."

"No, she doesn't, or no, there isn't anyone?"

Harry chewed on the question for a long minute. There wasn't much for it now, and maybe telling a _part_ of the truth would help him keep the rest of it hidden.

"She...works in a café."

Ron barked out a laugh. "I knew it. George owes me a galleon."

"You were betting on me?"

"We bet on _everything_, Harry. It's George. He'd bet on anything, anytime."

Harry conceded the point with a head bob. "At least it's only a galleon."

"This bet," Ron said. "I think I've run up a tab of about...six thousand, or so."

"Serves you right." Harry moved toward the box that the Spell-It-Yourself Building Kit had come in and removed the frame for the window.

"Are you going to tell me anything more?" Ron helped him get it into place and they applied the proper charms to keep it held there.

"No."

"Oh, come on, Harry. You can tell me more-"

Harry eyed him and then shook his head. "Not now. It's...new."

"Well, I figured that. Two months...unless you _just_ met her."

"The first visit."

Ron grinned and nudged him on the shoulder. "Is she at least pretty? Answer that and I'll stop asking."

Harry chewed his lip. Visions of Ginny filled his head. "No, she's beautiful."

"I don't understand why you won't tell me more-"

"You said you'd stop-"

Ron laughed and then froze. "Oh, damn, Harry. It's not...it's not Fleur, is it?"

For the first time since Ron had walked through the door, Harry wanted to laugh. He started and couldn't seem to stop. Ron joined, but his laugh was a sort of hesitant stutter.

"It's not, is it? Just...Bill would lose his mind. She really-"

"It's not Fleur, Ron."

"What's not Fleur?" Hermione asked as she entered the room, arms full of bags.

"The witch Harry's dating," Ron said. "Wait, it is a witch, right?"

Harry turned to Hermione. "You didn't forget the beer, did you?

Xxxxx

The trip back to France was actually easier than Harry expected, even though it had taken nearly a month again. He ached to be with Ginny; letters were not enough anymore. It seemed strange that such a deep attachment had been formed after such a short time, so little of it actually spent together. Their letters came regularly now-almost every day-and Harry felt like he was finally getting to know Ginny beyond the surface issues. He had yet to tell her of his experiences with Voldemort, but it was coming. Ginny was opening up more and more to discussing the past and he could see little ways in which she was beginning to soften toward her family more and more.

He loved watching Ginny as she moved around the little flat in Paris. There was a casual ease about her that he could only hope would translate when she was finally back in England.

"...Charlie said he's getting a promotion and he'll be over a larger part of the preserve."

"That's great." Harry was trying to focus on her chatter as they prepared a meal together, but it was hard when all the thoughts of asking Ginny to move back were running in his head, added to the growing need to tell her about his own past.

"He...he said he'll be going back to Devon for a few weeks."

"When?"

"Soon. Next month, I think." Ginny's focus returned to cooking, but Harry could see that she was thinking, too. She tilted her head in that way she had when deep in thought, and her eyes took on a glassy quality, even as her hand continued the ingrained wand movements.

Was this the right moment?

Harry hesitated just a bit too long and Ginny began talking about him finally meeting Marie this week, while he was here. Her roommate was done patiently waiting and had demanded to meet Harry, finally.

"That's fine," he said. "I'm ready."

Ginny reached out and threaded one finger through his belt loop, tugging him closer. "She's not crazy, I promise. I mean...well, she is, but not in a fangirl kind of way. She'll think it's cool that you're Harry Potter, but probably cooler that you're...I don't know… You never know what will strike her as interesting."

He chuckled and moved her hair to press a kiss to the back of her neck. "It's fine, Ginny. I want to meet her. She's your friend and she's been a big influence in your life. She's...important to you, so she'll be important to me."

She spun and threw her arms around him. "Thank you. I...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," said Harry. He held her there, breathing in the scent of her, swimming in the warmth and comfort that she gave with just her simple touch.

"Come on," Ginny said, finally. "Let's eat and then we can go meet Marie at the café."

"Wait, _your_ café?" Harry'd never actually been there, or to the tour agency. Ginny had kept him fairly insulated from her life before now.

"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "It's time to start...well, you can't really be kept a prisoner in my flat everytime you come, can you?"

"I wouldn't complain." He patted her bum as she walked by with a plate of food and she winked over her shoulder at him.

"Besides, they're all getting curious as to why I'm suddenly taking so much time off, and why I'm never interested when someone flirts with me."

Harry sat across from her, so that he could watch her.

"Were you before?"

"Sometimes," she said with a shrug, "but it was rare. I don't...I'm sort of awkward with flirting."

"I don't think so," Harry said. "Besides, nobody is as awkward as me."

Ginny laughed and they began eating.

"You're not worried that one of them will out us to the press?"

She thought about that for a few moments, her head tilted to the side. "I think...I think that we've gotten away with it so far. And, it's not like the press is everywhere over here like it is at home. France has a much bigger magical community, and they're not really as obsessed with celebrity over here."

"I'm not a celebrity," Harry protested. He didn't feel like one, at least. He was just...Harry. He wanted to be just Harry, at least. And the press hadn't been as bad the last few years, mostly because he'd given them no salacious stories to run with. And Skeeter had been mostly pushed into writing books for a living. They were still nothing more than gossip rags, but Harry'd seen them on the shelf at Flourish and Blotts for half off and the stack was still to the ceiling. People had grown tired of reading that trash, it seemed.

"I know, love," she soothed.

It wasn't the first time she'd called him that and Harry's heart raced, like it always did. He wanted to tell her...needed to tell her how he felt. But, did he just...dive in and say it?

"Such a beautiful evening outside. I think we'll walk."

"When do you fill out your paperwork to stay in France?"

Ginny looked up from her plate, blinking. "Er...the first of next month."

"Don't."

"What?"

Harry took a shaky breath and looked at her. "Don't fill it out. Come...come home. With me. Come stay with me."

The color drained from her face. "Harry, I...I don't know if I'm ready-"

He reached across the table, letting his fingers brush hers. Ginny wound their hands together between the dishes. "You are. You're stronger than you think, Ginny. When are you going to believe me?"

"I'm working on it," she said. And he knew she was. Her letters lately had been...different, more introspective, as if she was really working on the issues that were holding her back from reconnecting with her family again. "I...I want to believe you. Isn't that a start?"

"Yes."

"And...I do think that maybe you're right, but I still see myself as...tainted by it all."

Harry thought about that. "Do you think I'm dark, Ginny? Tainted?"

Her eyes went wide and she shook her head. "Not at all, Harry. He...he killed your parents and-"

"Tried to kill me."

"Yes, but...but that wasn't-"

"He left a part of himself inside me when he did that, Ginny."

They stared at each other for what seemed a long time. "What do you mean?"

"There's a thing called a horcrux. It's dark, dangerous magic. You intentionally kill an innocent and a part of your soul rips away-divides, really-and is sealed away in an object, or a creature, or...or someone like me. That's why he couldn't be killed for so long, why he didn't die."

Ginny pushed back from the table and stood. She moved away and Harry worried that he'd scared her.

"No... He...he did that to you? But you're..."

"I lived with it for years without ever knowing."

"When...is it still…?"

"It's gone," Harry said. He stood and moved toward her, glad that she wasn't backing away in fear. In fact, she reached for him, shaking as she curled into his embrace. "He destroyed it when he...when he killed me that last time."

"Dad told me that you...that you..."

"Died," Harry said. "Yeah. But...but I came back. I think that I was given the chance to live-really live, without him hunting me, trying to kill me."

Ginny looked up at him and he watched, mesmerized as tears streamed from her eyes and down the pale, smooth skin of her cheeks. "Harry…"

"You're not dark, Ginny. I _know_ dark. I understand it on a level that only you and I can. And I don't see any of it in you, no horcrux, no shred of evidence that it's still there."

"I still feel it."

"A shadow," Harry said. "A memory. I know. I can still feel it, too. I don't know if it will ever go away, but...it gets better."

"Yes," she agreed and burrowed into him again. "It does."

"I think that's one reason that I feel so connected to you, so...tied. We're the same. We've been through the same things."

"I didn't die."

"Barely," he said. "When I went into that Chamber, Ginny…" He had to swallow the emotion that rose in his throat. The images of Ginny collapsed on the cold floor of that dungeon had been haunting him lately. "I was so close to losing you, so very close, and I didn't even understand it back then. When I think of what we almost lost..."

"Don't," she warned. "Don't think about it. We're here now."

Harry lifted her chin and wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "Yes, we are. We're here. We're alive, and...and I love you, Ginny Weasley. I know you're scared. I know you don't know what's going to happen. That's okay. We'll be together. Come home with me."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Despite an awkward start to their evening with Marie and her date, Ginny and Harry had a great time. Once the wine started flowing, Marie had become her usual, vibrant self. Harry had started to relax a little-or at least to stop worrying so much about being seen or that a reporter might pop out of any little place. Ginny had no doubt in England he had to deal with that, but so far, in France he'd managed to escape it.

They walked home, hand in hand, enjoying the beautiful night. Even though Ginny had a light buzz from the wine she'd had with dinner, her thoughts were clear enough, just a little...jumbled.

Harry'd said the words. _The_ words! And he'd asked her to go back to England with him. All through dinner the things he'd said were at the forefront of her mind, turning over and over again as she tried to decide how she felt about it all. Harry wasn't pushing, which was nice, but she could tell by the way his shoulders sat-rigid and square-that he wasn't relaxing much.

"I love this place," she said as they entered the square where they'd met again.

"It's where I first met you again."

"Se revoir," she said. "To meet again."

There were a few people on the square, which was lit by the low light of the gas lamps that surrounded it. A guitar and violin had joined the accordion and the sweet music wafted through the air, creating an almost magical feel to the entire place.

Harry spun Ginny wide and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her as they began swaying. Ginny pressed her face into the warm skin of his neck, breathing in the soft, woodsy scent of him.

"This feels like a dream," she said.

"A good one."

Slowly, they twirled in the middle of the square, ignoring the people who walked by and gave them a wide berth. A light breeze tugged at the skirt Ginny was wearing and made goosebumps shoot up her arms. Harry pulled her even closer and rubbed his hand up her back to warm her. The strong scent of the blossoms from the cherry trees surrounding the square tickled her nose. They were a ghostly pink-grey against the dark of night, but she could still see them.

"Have you thought about what I said?" Harry asked.

Ginny lifted her head, looking up at him. His eyes were dark, reflections of the lights playing on his glasses hid them. Above them, the inky sky sparkled with the few stars they could see over the lights of the city. "I can't stop thinking about it."

"And?"

"And I'm scared," Ginny said. "I've made this my life for so long."

"We'll be together."

"We could be together here."

"We could." He hid his disappointment well, but Ginny could still hear a hint of it in his voice. "But we belong there, Ginny."

She sighed, knowing what he said was true. As much as she loved France, appreciated everything that she'd been allowed to accomplish here, under it all she wasn't French. She was a Weasley.

"Je veux passer le reste de ma vie avec toi. Tu es tout pour moi. Je t'aime, Harry."

Harry pressed his warm lips to her temple. "It was beautiful, but I think some of it was lost in translation."

She peered up at him. "You used a translation spell?"

"My only hope," he said. "You and Marie chatter on like those birds at the flower market. French to English and back again. I was getting so hopelessly lost."

Ginny chuckled. "I said that I love you, and that I want to spend my life with you."

"There was something more," Harry said.

Ginny huffed a little. "What if it was embarrassing? What if I said it in French on purpose, so you wouldn't know? A girl has to have a few secrets, Harry."

He laughed and spun her around, earning applause from and older couple who were walking nearby. "You're my everything, too," he whispered when he pulled her back in.

She locked her arms around his neck. "I'll need some time. Marie is going to be upset. And I need to give notice at work. And, Merlin...ten years of my life that I have to pack up."

"I can give you time." His fingers played with the ends of her hair, tugging lightly.

"And I can guarantee there are going to be tears."

Harry chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Okay."

"And probably some swearing."

"Ginny-"

"But...it's time."

Xxxxx

The flat was bustling with people-some of whom Ginny wasn't even sure she knew. Marie had outdone herself in throwing Ginny a going-away party, inviting their neighbors, vendors from their favorite shops in Rue Magique, Ginny's co-workers, and the few friends that girls had made over the years.

Madam Beaulieu had even broken her rule about being out past six in the evening and was wandering around the flat with Lafayette perched on her shoulder like a parrot. The cat condescended to meow at people they passed from his throne and it made Ginny laugh. The eccentric landlady wore full robes with garishly large and bright floral print, and told everyone stories of her late husband, Jacques-Désiré, and how he had invented some magical item that had revolutionized life. She'd never specified what it was in all the years that Ginny had known her.

Louis was trapped by her now, his back up against the wall next to the sofa, nodding his head at everything she said and adjusting his glasses almost constantly. Ginny wasn't sure he'd even gotten to say a single word in the conversation.

Her friends from the café had brought loads of food and the table was almost groaning under the weight of it all. Lucas and his wife Célia, who sometimes worked in the kitchen at Amis Enchantés, were hovering, making sure all of the guests had full plates and glasses full of wine.

Ines and Jules had some sort of drinking game going in the kitchen and the laughter nearly shook the building at times.

Monseiurs Vauqueline and Deniau were holding court in the living room, surrounded by the wide eyes of neighbors and friends as they told stories of 'the old days' when magical Parisians were not as restricted by the Ministry and open magic in the streets was very common to see.

Over it all, the light sound of a jazzy piano played. Marie's parents owned a band-not that they played, but they charmed all of the instruments to play-and had sent a magical recording for the event at Marie's request. They were just as extraordinary and outgoing as their daughter and occasionally breezed through Paris where they would stop and see the girls, sometimes waking them from a dead sleep and then claim that they'd had no idea what time it really was. It had made Ginny wary of them the first few times, but they really were charming when you got to know them.

There was a fondness with which Ginny had been viewing her life over the past few weeks since she'd agreed to return to England with Harry. A sort of rose-colored happy glow seemed to encapsulate everything. It left a longing that Ginny knew wasn't true, simply based on her emotional response to finally going back where she belonged. Everything seemed more beautiful. The people were friendlier as they waved to her in the street, the coffee was stronger, the food richer, and the colors more vibrant the closer she got to leaving.

It all left her feeling a bit sad and confused, like there was a hazy romanticism to the city and her life, beckoning her to stay.

But then Harry would owl, or even long-distance floo call, and things would come back into focus for Ginny. Her life was moving on and it was time to leave France and return home.

Harry was supposed to be here for the party and to help Ginny pack up the last of her things, but a last-minute development in the case he'd been working with her father kept him in England.

It was bittersweet to say goodbye to her life without him here to tether her to her new existence, but Ginny felt it was also a little fitting. She needed to do this on her own, so that she knew she wasn't doing it just for Harry, because she loved him.

So, she'd shrunk all of her belongings-including her charmed bicycle-and had shipped most everything to Harry's flat. All that was left were a few things she was planning to give away as mementos tonight to her friends, a change of clothing, and her orchid, which she would carry with her in the portkey tomorrow.

The entire evening felt a bit like a ride on a carousel, up and down, around and around while so much action happened around her. Flashes of color, waves of sound, bittersweet moments all washed over her as she watched from the middle of the flat. There was also a feeling of dizzy joy that came along with it all.

Later, after everyone had left and the flat was quiet again, Ginny lay on the sofa, her head in Marie's lap as her friend hummed along to the music still playing and drank from the last bottle of wine.

"Thank you for tonight," said Ginny. "It was amazing."

"Of course, mon ami," Marie said with a wink. Her hair had been charmed to be an electric blue color and it brought back fond memories of when she and Ginny had met at Beauxbatons. Marie had been a larger-than-life personality then, sporting fuchsia hair and always hovering just on the edge of expulsion from the prestigious magical academy. "I will miss you."

"I know," Ginny said with a sigh. "And I'll miss you, and this flat-"

"And Lafayette…" Marie snorted out a laugh. The cat had disappeared during the party and the entire group had gone on an expedition to find him, scouring nearby rooftops and fire escapes, landings and ledges, only to have Madam Beaulieu exclaim that he'd been home, curled up on his little cushion the entire search. Apparently, they'd worn the cat out.

"And Lafayette."

"Are you nervous about going back? It will be a big change."

Ginny thought about that for a long minute. "I don't know what to expect. Harry thinks...he thinks there will be a short time for everyone to adjust but that...that everything will be good."

"You don't think so?"

"I don't know. I've been gone so very long."

Marie drained the last of the wine and tucked the bottle next to Ginny, wedged into the sofa cushions. "Is Harry worth it?"

Ginny blinked up at her. "What do you mean?"

"Is he worth it?" she asked again. "Your family may not welcome you back. They may be angry or...something." Marie gestured widely with her hand, a vague sweeping motion. "But if Harry is worth leaving all this-"

"He is."

Slowly, a smile spread over Marie's face. "He loves you," she sang out, loudly.

Ginny burst into laughter, feeling slightly drunk, although she'd only had one glass of wine earlier in the night. They laughed for a while before fading into quiet, letting the soft strains of jazz lull them.

"I have something for you!" Marie suddenly jerked forward, nearly knocking Ginny to the floor. She pulled her wand and summoned a badly wrapped package. "To remember me by," she said as she handed it to Ginny.

The bright wrapping paper was removed slowly-much to Marie's dismay-until it revealed a framed photograph of the two women as girls, wearing the pale blue robes with the Beauxbatons crest sewn onto them.

"Why don't I remember this?" Ginny said as she ran her fingers over the glass. The two girls in the photo had their arms wrapped around each other, heads pressed together with clashing hair colors: Ginny's red and Marie's bright pink.

"My parents took it when we finished school. Remember they came to pick me up?"

Ginny smiled fondly and touched the glass above her own image, smiling as the photograph tried to get away from her by ducking and weaving.

"You're going to make me cry," Ginny said.

"Non! Enough tears. Tonight is for celebrating!"

Ginny sat up and hugged Marie. Through their open window they heard Madam Beaulieu calling for her wayward cat, her voice echoing down the quiet Parisian street.

"Lafayette! Mon petit amour! Pourquoi tu me caches?"

Xxxxx

Ginny wasn't sure what strings Harry pulled, but she arrived in the International Portkey Offices of the British Ministry without another soul around. He was the only one there, smiling from the other side of the glass partition.

"That took forever," Ginny groaned when they were finally able to hug. "Not on this end, of course, but the French wanted to review every bit of paper and wanted to know everything about my flower and why I insisted on carrying it with me everywhere."

Harry laughed and kissed her. Ginny's eyes went wide. "Harry! People can see!"

"Nah. I set off a dungbomb in Magical Transportation a few minutes ago. Everyone evacuated to make sure the Floo Network wasn't about to explode. I figure we have at least three more minutes."

She wanted to scold him. It seemed like such a childish thing to do, but still too funny. "Really?"

"No," he said with a laugh. "I bribed the bloke who normally falls asleep in here between arrivals. But we need to hurry."

He helped her gather her small suitcase and steady the flower she was balancing. "We can apparate straight out of here to my flat. I'll guide us."

She held tightly to him and closed her eyes against the pinch of apparition. It wasn't something she was used to regularly, but decided it was time to get over that. In France, apparition might not be usual, but in England it was the standard method for wizards and witches to travel. One more thing to acclimate to.

They arrived and Harry steadied her before taking the flower and setting it on a small table near the sofa.

"I unpacked a few of your things-nothing too personal-but you can rearrange anything you want.

"Harry," Ginny sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Honestly, I'm just really...overwhelmed and...and tired."

He pulled her to him and kissed the side of her head. "I can imagine. I have the rest of the day off. How about we take a nap together? I hardly slept last night for all the excitement."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tipped her head up to smile at him. "You were excited?"

"Still am," he said. "I've been counting down the days, honestly."

Ginny kissed him quickly. "Me, as well. Now, show me to the bedroom. I want to see my new flat."

"You want the tour?"

Ginny kissed his neck, and then the spot just below his ear. "No. Just the bedroom."

Harry swallowed audibly and held her tighter, apparating them the few feet down the hallway.

"That was unexpected!" she said with a laugh. "Lucky I didn't splich!"

He smirked. "All of your parts and pieces are intact?"

"Hmmm, lucky for you, I'd say." They kissed for a few moments before Ginny pulled away and took a look around his bedroom. It was spacious and airy. Some of her things were lying about, as if she'd been here always. Her broom stood in the corner next to his, and Harry had even hung a few of her Quidditch posters next to his own. She smiled and turned to ask him a question but noticed the shine of blue and green on the floor. Tracing the sunbeams upward, she gasped at the large replica of her stained-glass window from France that was now in Harry's bedroom.

"Put that in just recently," Harry said. He shifted his feet and tucked his hands into his jean pockets. "Ron actually helped, if you can believe it."

"You…"

"I loved that little window you had and…" Harry trailed off with a shrug. "I thought maybe-"

But he never got to finish because Ginny attacked him, throwing herself into his arms and making them teeter towards the bed. They fell back onto the pillows and blankets, Harry trapped beneath her.

"I can't believe you did that for me."

"I wanted you to have a little reminder of your home."

Ginny moved a wayward bit of hair that had fallen down over his forehead. "It's not my home, anymore, Harry. This is."

Harry kissed her again, rolling them until she was tucked under his body.

"Welcome home, Ginny."

Again thanks to the Hinny discord. Two more chapters and this baby is done. Oh aside from a Charlie one-shot.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Harry was back at the Burrow for another Weasley Family Dinner. He'd just apparated to the area near Arthur's shed, but couldn't bring himself to move any closer yet. Instead, he let his eyes scan the outline of the crooked, cobbled-together, wonderful place. There was still a pile of old Welly's-long past being useful-next to the door and Harry imagined Ginny's red polka dotted ones joining them, as if they belonged and had never been gone.

"Soon," he promised himself.

He started to move toward the house, his eyes on the glowing rectangles of light that came from the kitchen windows. They were open and the familiar sound of happy chaos leaked out, inviting him in.

The crack of someone apparating behind him made Harry turn. His hand went for his wand-the side effect of constant vigilance-but he didn't pull it. Ron looked up and grinned at him.

"Almost got hexed, didn't I?"

"Not even close."

"Good. I've had a helluva day at work. Don't need to sort myself out after you blast me with whatever creative spell you've learned recently."

Harry laughed and clapped his mate on the shoulder as they walked toward the house together.

"You just getting here?"

"Yeah. George ordered up a batch of new ingredients for the WonderWitch line. Unfortunately, the supplier had a bit of a mix up and all the labels got put onto the wrong boxes. Took me forever to go through each one to figure out what was in them and get them labeled correctly." He held up his hands that had a variety of sores, pustules, warts, scabs, and bruises.

"Ouch."

"You don't have to tell me," Ron said and then shrugged. "They'll heal soon enough."

They were almost to the back door when Ron turned to him. "Oh, I meant to ask you, have you been mucking around with the wards at your flat? I tried to get in the other day, and I couldn't."

Harry smirked. He'd changed them for self-preservation, mostly, but also because he didn't need Ron or Hermione walking in when he was with Ginny. He had no idea how her brothers were going to react to her being back, let alone knowing that she and Harry were a couple.

"Is this about the cane?"

"Yep." And, it was, a little. Harry knew Ron would get him back somehow.

Ron laughed. "I'd never leave something under your bed. That's too obvious. You forget that I've got George on my side. He'll help me find something much more creative."

Harry held open the door. "Pretty sure George will be on _my_ side, mate."

"No doubt about it," George chimed in as he walked by levitating a stack of plates toward the kitchen table. "Scars over blood. Sorry Ron." He winked and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Cheers!" Harry said with laugh.

"Sorry we're late, Mum," Ron said as he pulled out his usual chair and plopped down into it. "Harry wouldn't stop talking. I'm telling you; he gets just a bit of firewhisky in him and-"

Harry knocked his elbow into Ron's head purposefully as he walked by to take his own seat. "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it's fine, Harry dear! We weren't even started yet." She pinched his cheek and then moved past him to grab Ron's hands as he reached for the basket of bread that was floating near him. "Ronald Weasley! What _have_ you done to your fingers?!"

Harry smirked and winked at Teddy, who was hiding a laugh behind his hand. The boy continued to giggle as Bill poked his side and instructed him to put some vegetables on his plate. Harry was struck by the action and realized it was a very 'dad' behavior for Bill. Even though Harry knew that Bill was with Tonks in a romantic sort of way, it was interesting to see him acting as a parental figure for Teddy. A deep longing for Remus flooded Harry, but he tucked it away with a sigh. So many lost during the war.

"You gonna take some?" George nudged Harry's arm and Harry glanced up to see that the parade of food levitating around the table was piling up before him as he watched Teddy and Bill.

"Sorry." Harry mindlessly helped himself to everything just to keep the procession moving. Besides, Mrs. Weasley's food was always good.

Arthur, who was next to Harry, on his right at the head of the table, turned to him. "The Aurors said they'll likely check out those leads this week and let us know if anything comes of it."

"Oh, is this about the case? What progress?" Bill asked. He stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and turned to Tonks.

"You know I can't discuss an ongoing case," she said, one eyebrow raised. Harry noticed that the tips of her hair were slightly blond, not the mousy brown that the rest of it was. He hadn't seen her transform since before the Final Battle, not fully, anyway. Grief did strange things to people, he decided. But it was good to see that she was managing a little, at least.

"Since when?" Ron scoffed. "You always tell us loads!" He ignored the way that Hermione nudged his elbow. Perhaps she was scolding him for talking through a mouthful of chicken pie.

"After the fact, yeah," Tonks corrected, "but this really is an ongoing and open case. They'll actually be serving notice of search today, if I'm not mistaken." She opened her mouth to say more and then closed it with a snap, realizing that she'd just spilled more than she should have.

"Not to worry, Tonks," Arthur soothed. "Even I knew that much."

"Hopefully we'll have a break in it all this week," Harry said. He wouldn't be here, he thought happily. He'd be in France, helping Ginny pack up the last of her things and escorting her home. He reminded himself to go down and see Ralph in the International Portkey Office. They'd grown more friendly over Harry's recent trips and Ralph had indicated that he might be willing to look the other way if Harry were to bring him some signed Quidditch memorabilia. It just so happened that Harry had an autographed Oliver Wood Quaffle sitting on his bookshelf. It would be a sacrifice, but Ginny was worth it.

Conversation carried on and Harry let it drift around him. He realized, not for the first time, that there were not enough chairs around the Weasley's table. He, Tonks, Hermione, and Teddy added to the numbers, but they didn't take the place of those who were absent.

"...Charlie will be here next week…"

Mrs. Weasley's voice cut through his thoughts and he perked up. Ginny would be here, as well, and she'd told Harry that Charlie was going to spend a few weeks in England.

"...think we can eat outside next week. It will be just lovely. Bill, do you think you could come early and help set up some tables out in the garden?"

"Of course."

"I can help, too, Mum," Ron said.

Harry would offer, but he didn't know what he and Ginny would be doing before the dinner. Perhaps she wouldn't be ready to see them, just yet. Perhaps they'd be so distracted being with each other that they'd forget the meal completely. He was happily lost in his thoughts when he realized that next week there could be two more places filled at this table. Fred and Percy's spots could never be taken, but Harry would be able to help with one more.

"Mrs. Weasley, would you mind if I bring...a friend next week?" Harry's face flushed when he realized that he'd interrupted the conversation. "Sorry. I just thought...I should ask."

Mrs. Weasley blinked at him with wide eyes. "Of course not, Harry. Any friend of yours is welcome here."

"Wait! Is this your girlfriend?" Ron asked, perking up from his end of the table.

"Harry gots a ghoul friend?" Teddy asked. He turned to his mother. "Mom! I want a ghoul friend!"

"Me too, mate," George said and then turned on Harry with a wicked look in his eye. "Your _French_ girlfriend?"

Merlin. Harry knew Ron wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut.

"We're happy to meet her, Harry," said Hermione.

"I hadn't heard-"

"Well, isn't that nice-"

"Wait! Why didn't I know about-"

"No, you can't have a friend that's a ghoul-"

"Look! His face is turning all red-"

"Yes," Harry burst out, stopping the brand-new avalanche of questions being hurled his way. "My...my girlfriend."

It was Arthur who finally calmed the chaos. He clapped Harry on the shoulder, a strange look in his eye. "She's welcome, Harry. And since we're having guests, I would appreciate any help this week with degnoming the garden. The little buggers-"

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley tipped her head toward Teddy, who was watching with rapt attention as he stuffed peas into his already-bulging cheeks.

"Yes. Er...the little _creatures_ seem to keep invading and I can't quite keep up."

Xxxxx

"Alright?"

"Annoyed," Harry said with a huff. "I was meant to be-"

"I know and I'm sorry. If it wasn't important-"

"I know."

Arthur patted him on the back and Harry tried to brush off the feeling that he was abandoning Ginny to finish this move all on her own. He'd been scheduled for a few days off and a portkey to Paris, but when the break in their case finally came, Harry knew he'd have to stay in England.

And Ginny had told him she was fine with it when he'd long distance floo called her. The connection had been horrible, but they'd managed enough words to make Harry feel marginally better.

But now he and Arhtur were sitting in the dark, hidden in some tall bushes on the edge of the property, watching a house and waiting for the Aurors to make their move and apprehend the wizard they suspected had been behind the entire ring of magicking the credit card machines of Muggle merchants. And Harry was no closer to knowing why it was being done at all.

"I still don't understand this," he mumbled to Arthur.

"I have to admit that I don't fully understand the motive, either," said Arthur. "I've seen some pretty vindictive actions by Wizardkind toward Muggles in the past-hexes and charms that would actually do them physical harm-but I can't say that this is the case here." His forehead creased and he shook his head slowly. "I can only imagine that this is being done for monetary gain, since there seems to be no other clear motive."

Harry hummed in thought. He glanced back at the house they were watching, an unassuming little suburban Muggle home that looked very similar to all of the others around it, honestly, other than the for-sale sign that creaked in the light wind. It didn't really fit in with the puzzle that Harry'd been trying to solve for the past months. He had no idea what to expect when they finally saw the wizard once and for all.

"The pieces just don't add up," he said, not for the first time. "The house in France with the shed in the back and all the owl mess, the lack of evidence in Germany, the sporadic nature of the crime, and now this place."

"I don't see where the Germany connection comes in, either," Arthur said, "but this house connects to the other. When Muggles sell their homes, they do it this way, correct?" He motioned toward the sign and Harry nodded. "Then it's possible that nobody lives here."

"But anyone coming and going from an abandoned house would attract attention in a place like this," Harry countered. "There's always a neighbor like my Aunt Petunia watching everything."

Arthur sighed and agreed with a nod. "I believe that magic might help that. He might never need be seen outside the house. There are Muggle repelling charms all over it."

"True."

Harry's ear buzzed and the Auror in charge, Martin, spoke directly to him. "Area is clear, and suspect has been apprehended. Feel free to advance." The Aurors had not been thrilled to be involved in the case as much as they were; they'd tried to send it to the Magical Law Enforcement office, but Tonks had managed to keep it in their jurisdiction simply because there were international connections.

"We're clear," Harry told Arthur and they moved from their concealment and up the walk. Harry could see neighbors peering out their windows from a distance, watching the kerfuffle in their neighborhood with curiosity and excitement. Thankfully, they'd listened to Harry's suggestion of marking their cars in the way that the local police did for effect, but he also knew that the Obliviators squad would be busy tonight modifying memories of the events and making it all go away.

The house was a mess inside, as if a dozen people or more had been living there and not bothered to clean up. Owl droppings decorated everything and there were piles of parchment everywhere. They wove their way past stacks of it-Harry noticed every wizarding and Muggle newspaper imaginable, along with the glossy pages of magazines appearing in the teetering piles here and there. The windows were all thrown open and the ruffle of feathers made Harry look closer into the dark corners of the room. Glowing amber eyes blinked back at him, a dozen or more.

Martin was in the kitchen, along with a couple other Aurors who milled about.

"I want the squads finished with all of the houses in less than an hour," he was directing as one of the men scribbled on a piece of parchment. "And then we'll need to get a Cursebreaker to go over everything before we begin cleaning up the mess in here."

A thin whine emitted from the end of the room that Harry couldn't see. He peered around Martin's shoulder and saw a strange little man seated at the kitchen table, his arms bound to his sides. It seemed that he had been stuck to the chair.

His misshapen head was bowed low, nearly resting on the wood. His glasses slid down his face, dangling near the end of his nose. One good shake and they'd be off. His clothes were mismatched-striped pants and a horribly itchy-looking jumper that was covered in white splotches that Harry didn't want to contemplate too much.

"What's the status, Martin?" Arthur asked. Harry glanced up to see that Mr. Weasley was appraising the suspect the same as he had been, a look of pity on his face.

"This is the one you led us to, Arthur." Martin's brusque demeanor softened a little and Harry remembered that he had worked in connection with Arthur in the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells Protective Objects during the war.

Harry's attention turned back to the man, who sniffled and looked up at Harry. His eyes were pale blue-almost shockingly so-and slightly vacant, as if he wasn't perceiving what was going on around him fully.

"Did you hex him?" Harry asked the Auror who seemed to be standing guard. She was a burly, unforgiving sort who wore a permanent scowl, even when Harry had seen her around the Ministry hallways.

"Should've, but didn't," she barked out. She gestured down to her arm, where Harry could see her robes were shredded at one shoulder, the edges seeping with blood.

"Did he put up a fight?"

"Not him." The Auror huffed and gave a dirty look toward the bank of cupboards on the far side of the room where another group of owls sat watching the proceedings, their feet clamping and releasing on the edges of where they perched. "Them. Came at us in a pack."

"Don't hurt my owls," the pitiful man at the table mumbled. His voice was high and nasal, a wispy whine to it.

"Are all of these owls yours?" Harry bent at the waist, trying to catch the eye of the man. Something was off about all of this situation.

"They're my friends," he said, more to the table than to Harry. "Don't hurt them."

"We're not going to hurt your owls," Harry assured him. "But you can't let them attack people."

The man didn't respond, and Harry shook his head, straightening again and turned back to the conversation Arthur was having with Martin.

"...almost don't think he's capable of doing it," Martin said as he appraised the suspect. "He seems…"

"He has special needs." It leaked out of Harry before he'd even realized that he'd made that conclusion.

Martin's eyebrows rose and then scrunched together. "He's magical but won't tell us much. He just keeps blathering about his owls."

"They're his friends," Harry said. He turned back to the man. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Don't hurt my owls."

"We won't."

"We might," the female Auror said.

"We won't," Harry repeated firmly with a glare at all of the Aurors in the room. "We'll help you take care of them."

"I need to feed them. They like...they like rabbits."

"We'll help you soon. But can you tell me why you were stealing from the Muggles? We need to know, and then we can help with the owls."

"They like mice, too."

"Can you tell me your name?"

The man finally looked up at Harry, as if fully seeing him for the first time. There was no recognition there-he had no idea that Harry was anyone different from the others in the room-but _something_ registered in those icy blue eyes.

"Daniel."

Harry pulled out a chair, ignoring the coating of owl droppings, and sat tentatively on it. "Hello Daniel, I'm Harry. And this is my partner, Arthur." He gestured toward Mr. Weasley. "We came to help you take care of your owls."

"I like owls."

"I can see that. Do they have names?"

"Yeah."

Daniel didn't seem inclined to tell Harry anymore about the owls. He squirmed uncomfortably in the chair.

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't like being held down."

Harry glanced up at Martin, who was watching the exchanged closely. He gave a hesitant nod and Harry removed the binding spell. Daniel relaxed and shifted in the chair but remained seated.

"Can you tell me about the Muggle credit cards, Daniel?" Harry asked. "Why were you taking money from people."

Daniel shook his head firmly. "Wasn't."

"Are you sure? Maybe you didn't mean to? Maybe it was a mistake."

Daniel scowled at him and Harry leaned back, realizing how close he'd gotten. "I said, no."

"Okay. Do you know anything about that?" Harry asked. "Maybe you saw something."

"Did you live in France, Daniel?" Arthur asked. He came around to the other side of the table, opposite Harry, and sat.

"Yeah. I liked it there. It was quiet."

"What about Germany?"

The scowl returned. "No. Didn't like it. No place for my owls. And it was noisy."

"I like the quiet, too," said Harry. "I saw your home in France. It was...nice. And you had a place for your owls."

"Why did you leave, Daniel?"

"Had to. Davis said so."

A commotion from the front of the house interrupted Arthur's next question and they both stood quickly, wands drawn.

"What's going on here?! Why are you here? Where is Daniel?"

Daniel stood and backed toward the wall, trying to blend into it, if Harry had to guess. He recognized the behavior from when he was young and would try and hide in the smallest spots when Uncle Vernon would come home in a mood.

"You'll be alright, Daniel," Harry soothed.

There were some harsh words spoken, but a man finally came into the room, huffing and blustering about how the Ministry was going to pay for the damage they'd done to the house-even after it was clearly pointed out that the wizard did not own the house they were standing in.

Harry stood between him and Daniel, but the wizard seemed not to see him at all. He wasn't overly tall, or short, about Harry's height, but he had the look of someone who took pride in what he wore and how he looked. His robes were well fitted to him and high-quality fabric. His hair was coiffed perfectly-not a piece out of place-and his thin little mustache looked drawn on, it was so precise. He had the same icy blue eyes as Daniel, and Harry could see a mild resemblance in the two men.

"What have you done, Daniel? Breaking into a Muggle home? Hiding from me when I was so worried for you?"

"You told me-"

"Don't lie, Daniel-"

If it was one thing that Harry could recognize, it was a man who was full of shite. He'd lived with Vernon Dursley for years, after all.

"That'll be enough, Mr….?" Harry stepped forward, placing himself right in the path between this man and Daniel.

He puffed up like a peacock, but then his eyes glanced to Harry's forehead and he seemed to rethink his words. Another glance down at Harry's wand, which was trained on him, and the man took a deep breath. "Davids," he said. "Davis Davids. And this is my younger brother, Daniel."

"We've met Daniel," Arthur said. "He was telling us about his owls."

"Those ruddy birds," Davis said, almost under his breath. "Be the death of us all." He looked over Harry's shoulder to Daniel. "You've done it again, haven't you, boy?"

The top of Harry's head felt like it might explode upward at the condescending tone; the use of the word 'boy' finally set him off.

"I wonder if you and I might have a word in the other room, Mr. Davids?" He didn't give the man the chance to answer as he slid his hand around Davis' arm and tugged him through the door.

"Mr. Potter, surely you can-"

"That'll be enough out of you," Harry said as he nudged Davis into a chair in the living room. The Aurors in the room stood back, watching. "Now, I don't know exactly what's going on with Daniel, or with you-"

"He's an imbecile," Davis blurted, "surely, you can see that." His eyes darted about the room, looking for anyone to help him out of his situation. Harry's wand nearly shook with the effort it took not to hex this man to hell and back.

"I suggest, Mr. Davids, that you listen to me for a minute, rather than prattling on about whatever it is you think I'm going to care about." Davis' mouth closed just as quickly as if Harry had spelled it shut. "It seems to me that Daniel has been living on his own here, and at the house in France, without you here to help him. Is that so?"

Davis rolled his shoulders lightly and appeared to be trying to calm himself. "He's perfectly capable of living on his own, Mr. Potter."

"In a Muggle home that doesn't belong to him."

A sigh exited the man's nose and he looked at Harry as if he were talking to a stupid child. "Daniel wanders off, at times. I am a very busy man, Mr. Potter. I work in foreign acquisitions, often in other countries for months at a time. I try my best to keep an eye on Daniel and make sure he has what he needs, but it is not reasonable to expect me to take care of-"

"Your own brother should not be a burden to you." Harry felt the statement down to the middle of his bones. He'd spent so many years being told that he was an unwanted burden, a hardship, nothing but a freeloader. It wasn't right.

"Don't misunderstand me-"

"Oh, I think I understand you better than you think, Mr. Davids. Are you telling me that Daniel is smart enough to fully live on his own, provide for himself and for his owls, and arrange his own housing?"

Davis' eyes darted from Harry to the Aurors who were watching the entire proceedings carefully.

Silently, Harry cast a Compulsion Charm. He wasn't entirely convinced it would work but thought that perhaps his agitated and emotional state might just drive the intent of the spell more than using the words.

"Of course not," Davis blurted. "I've been forced to provide for him our entire lives." He shifted uncomfortably and tugged at the front of his robes.

"And how do you provide for him when you're such a busy man?" Harry pressed.

"I'm forced to steal, of course." His hand came up and covered his mouth, his eyes going wide. "I mean….I mean...I scam Muggles out of their money. No! I didn't mean that. I meant...I sometimes steal right from their pockets!"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Martin, who was trying not to laugh out loud. The other Aurors were struggling just as much.

"Has Daniel been aware of your schemes?" Harry asked. "Was he involved?"

Davis pressed his lips together as tightly as he could, but the word still escaped him in a sort of sob. "No."

"Is that enough?" Harry asked Martin.

"Enough for me," Martin said. "Mr. Davids, we are taking you into custody. You can make a statement down at Auror Headquarters." Martin nodded his head toward Harry and secured Davids before levitating the man out the door.

Harry took a moment to calm himself. He didn't want to appear too angry in front of Daniel, in case the wizard had a burst of accidental magic or did something to try and protect himself. After a few deep breaths, Harry was able to enter the kitchen again. He stopped in the doorway and burst into laughter.

Arthur stood in the middle of the room, his stretched arms out to the sides like a Muggle scarecrow, with owls perched all over him, even one sitting on his head.

"Alright, Mr. Weasley?"

Arthur's smile grew wider. "Just fine, Harry. Just fine." Daniel was talking to the owls as if they were his best friends, which Harry could understand. He remembered speaking with Hedwig much the same when they'd been locked away at Privet Drive. She'd been more than just a companion.

"You might want to have Martin look into what Mr. Davis Davids does for a living-or supposedly does," Harry told the female Auror. She was backed up to the wall, a wary eye on all the owls, her wand at her side, though. "He mentioned something about foreign acquisitions. I'm inclined to think that is a fancy way of saying he's a thief, just with expensive taste."

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

"We're fine here," Harry said, motioning toward Daniel, who seemed completely calm and happy now that he had access to his birds. "You can go."

"Sir-"

"It's fine, Birdwhistle," Arthur said with a firmness in his tone. "Mr. Potter and I can handle ourselves, I assure you."

The witch's eyes widened just a bit and she nodded, hurrying out, staying along the edge of the wall as far from the birds as she could.

"Ironic name," Harry muttered.

Arthur chuckled. "I hadn't thought of that, but yes, it is."

xxxxx

It was late by the time they got Daniel-and all his owls-settled at the home of an elderly cousin who was shocked to learn that Daniel was still around, let alone that Davis had been using him in some of his schemes to defraud both wizards and Muggles out of anything he could: money, artwork, houses, jewelry, or anything else.

Harry yawned as he finished the last of his report. It was well past midnight. With a start, Harry realized that Ginny would be arriving in France today. That gave him a little more energy to scribble the remainder of his notes and close the file.

"You know, Harry," Arthur said, "I'm very proud of the way you handled yourself tonight." He had spelled some of the bird mess off his robes, but there were a few spots that stubbornly remained, despite his continued efforts.

Harry felt his face heat. "It was nothing-"

"Not at all." Mr. Weasley stopped scrubbing and leaned his elbows on his desk. "You were placed in a tough situation that must have raised some emotions about the way you grew up."

Harry looked down at the ink stains on his hands. They would spell away, mostly, but he rubbed at them with his fingers.

"Molly and I used to worry about you when we had to send you back there each summer. She'd go on and on about how it wasn't right to send you back there. Dumbledore and I had words on several occasions about it."

Harry's head snapped up. "I...I never knew that."

"If there had been a way for us to take you, Harry…" Arthur let his words fade away and rubbed at his face. "Well, just know that we're very happy to have you as one of our children, Harry."

A lump the size of a quaffle seemed to grow in Harry's throat, preventing him from speaking.

"Very fine work," Arthur finally said. He stood and tapped his wand on the file that Harry had closed. It went zooming over to the file cabinet, where it nestled into place. The cabinet closed with a satisfying click and Harry looked up to see that Arthur had summoned his hat and travel robes.

"I don't know about you, Harry, but I feel as if I could sleep for a week." He yawned to punctuate the statement. "You have tomorrow off, yes?"

Harry stood quickly, banging his knees into his desk. "Yes."

"Take the one after that, as well," said Arthur with a tired smile. "The office will keep without us until Monday. I'll see you-and your friend-at dinner on Friday. That is...if she's still coming."

"Yes," Harry said, unable to keep a smile from nearly splitting his face. "She is, sir."

Arthur patted him kindly on the shoulder and exited the office door. "Until then."

Harry leaned on his desk and thought about the last few hours. He'd hoped to have been in Paris for Ginny's going-away party, meeting all of her friends, and spending one last night there before they started the next chapter in their lives together. And even though he still wished things had turned out differently, Harry couldn't wish away the events of the night.

He didn't have a flashy job as an Auror as he'd once thought about pursuing. Some speculated that he was wasting his life working in a tiny little office with a Muggle-loving man like Arthur Weasley. They lamented in newspapers and magazines that Harry Potter was not living up to his glory. It had never really bothered Harry much, mostly because he woke up each morning knowing that he might not save the world that day, but he had the opportunity to make a difference in some small way.

Today had been good.

And tomorrow, well, tomorrow would be even better.

He yawned, turned out the lights with a flick of his wand, and closed the door, setting the locking spell.

Yes, tomorrow would be better.

xxxxx

Ginny seemed to have enough energy for the both of them. Harry felt a bit like a slug, although a happy slug. He lay on the bed, watching her pace between the bedroom and the bathroom, talking constantly, and doing things that fascinated him, like rubbing smoothing potion on all of her various parts and plaiting her hair over her shoulder without looking.

They were due at the Burrow in an hour and Ginny's nerves were beginning to get to her. If he thought she might not hex him for it, Harry would tug her down onto the bed with him again and distract her. But they'd had plenty of distractions for the past two days. He resolved to focus-not on the bits of smooth skin showing-but on what she was saying.

"I know you keep telling me not to be nervous," she told him, "but it's not like I can help it. I mean...I haven't seen them for years-at least not all together like this."

"Then don't think of it that way," Harry said. He sat up, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting in just his underpants. "This is your family, but they are made up of individual parts. Charlie will be there."

Ginny chewed the edge of her lip while she finished tying the end of her plait with some sort of spell that mystified Harry. Living together, even just over the past two days had brought a whole host of new experiences for Harry that he wasn't sure how to adapt to. Would he one day take for granted all of the little things that Ginny did to get ready each day? Would they one day be too routine, too 'everyday' that he would stop wanting to watch her?

He hoped not.

"That does help," she said. "But so will Bill."

"What's wrong with Bill?"

"Nothing," Ginny said with a dismissive wave. "He's just...he was always pretty distant after I left, but when he did write or visit it was like he was trying to take the place of dad."

Harry scowled as he thought about that. Sibling relationships were still a complete mystery to Harry. He had no idea how to relate, or even how Ginny was feeling right now. He thought back to the only experience he had with something close, but still didn't know if it was anything remotely like this. "When Ron and I weren't speaking during the Triwizard Tournament," he said, "I didn't know what to do. I felt...lost and out of sorts about everything. I just wanted him to believe me, to see my side of things and to not...not believe that I was such a horrible person."

Ginny stopped pacing and stood in front of him, close enough that he could feel the heat of her against his legs. He reached up and pulled her to him, looking up at her.

"For a while, all I could focus on was how hurt I was that he didn't believe in me, that he didn't...didn't seem to want our friendship anymore. And then I worried that maybe it was too late, maybe everything was ruined. What if he decided that I wasn't worth it? What if I was never his friend again? And maybe it's not like that for you at all-"

"Harry." Ginny pressed a finger to his lips, stopping the flow of words. "It's exactly like that."

He kissed her and slipped his fingers under the edge of her shirt to brush the skin there.

"How did you reconcile things?" she asked. "Maybe...maybe I can do something like that with my family."

Harry snorted. "You're not facing a bloody great dragon, Ginny. We'll find another way."

She sat down on his knees, pulling into him tightly. "I'm scared, Harry."

"I know." Harry pulled them until they were laying on the bed once more, rolling to face her. "We'll figure it out, Ginny. I think...I think that you're worrying has created this...this…"

"Dragon?"

"Yes, _dragon_, in your own mind." Harry mock glared at her, but Ginny smirked unrepentantly. "Not that the fear behind it isn't real, but…" He sighed and kissed her. "I know these people, Ginny. They love you. They miss you. And all they want is for you to be back with them."

"Don't mess up my hair, Harry," she warned. "And how did you get to be so smart?"

"Years of doing everything the wrong way 'round, I assure you."

They kissed lazily for a few minutes before Ginny pulled back. "Harry?"

"Yeah."

"When I asked you to keep us a secret, back in Paris?"

"Yeah."

"I was wrong."

Harry digested that for a moment before nodding. "I didn't like it, but I understood."

Her eyes were bright and there was a sort of fire in them, determination to prove herself to him. "No. I shouldn't have asked you to do that."

"Ginny, I understood and I made the choice. I...I won't do it again, but…"

"You won't have to," she said. "I'll never ask you to again."

"It was worth it," he whispered and kissed her again.

"Are you ready?"

Harry smirked. "Do I look ready?"

Ginny slapped at his chest lightly and sat up, trying to straighten her hair once more. "I just meant-"

"I'm a bloke, Ginny, I take five minutes to get ready." Harry had a bit more energy now, and he liked that he'd been able to distract Ginny for a few minutes, at least. "I'll go shower."

"You do that. I have to redo my hair, thank you very much."

Harry winked at her and hurried out of the room before she got to her wand and did some damage.

She was back to pacing again when he got out but seemed lost in her own thoughts while he finished getting ready. At least she'd turned on her favorite music-something that seemed to help her center more. Harry thought about talking to her again or trying to distract once more. He glanced at his watch "no time for that!" and sighed.

"It's time, Ginny." He held out his hand and she slid her shaking one into it.

"Harry-"

"I love you, Ginny. Nothing is going to change that, so...try to just let tonight happen, alright? Don't...don't overthink it. Remember who they are at the heart of it all."

Her eyes were bright again, but there was a hesitancy there that Harry recognized as fear. He kissed her cheek and held her hand tightly.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Xxxxx

Since they were eating in the garden, Harry apparated to the clearing just outside the fence, not directly in sight of the tables.

Ginny's hand was strong in his, but he could still feel her nerves. He kissed the side of her head and she pulled in tighter as they began to walk.

"I was supposed to help get the gnomes out this week," he said absently. "I forgot."

"Looks alright to me."

"Ron and Bill offered to help, too. Probably Teddy, also," Harry added with a smirk. "He loves to throw the little buggers. Your family is corrupting him horribly, by the way. It's brilliant."

They could see the tables now. The low chatter of voices warmed Harry. Ginny's hand slipped around his arm tightly, as her other clung to him. She let out a shaky breath and he knew she was taking it all in.

The warm, orange light of evening lit up the Burrow, highlighting all of its odd little places that jutted out awkwardly, held up by magic. Harry let his eyes rest on the table in the garden, lit by floating candles and lanterns. People were milling about, getting the table set and bringing food out from the back of the house.

"It smells the same," Ginny muttered softly. "Lilacs and apples...and old wood."

Now that she mentioned it, Harry realized how true it was. The Burrow had always had a certain smell to him, but he'd always just assumed it was 'home'.

"Hello, Harry!" Ron called. Everyone turned and all motion at the table stopped as Harry and Ginny moved forward.

"Ginny!" Molly's spell holding the food afloat failed and it came crashing down onto the table, sending dishes flying. In the next second, she was running toward her daughter, Mr. Weasley following.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was engulfed in a huge hug, smashing he and Ginny together as the Weasley parents embraced them both.

"Oh, Ginny."

"Harry, my boy, what have you done?"

Harry looked down into the watery eyes of Mr. Weasley, completely undone with emotion, but a glowing smile on his face.

"I'd like you to meet my girlfriend...Ginny."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

She felt adrift in a sea of chaos, all the noise, sights, smells, and sensations overwhelming her. Yet, through it all, there was an anchor holding her in place. Harry's warm presence was solid next to her, fastening her to the earth. And then, slowly, it was as if more ties reached out, tentative, at first, but then stronger and stronger. Her mother. Her father.

A bubble of emotion swelled up inside her and Ginny was afraid she might just break down, but she swallowed it back, forcing it down. She'd be a mess later, but Harry didn't seem to mind. Somehow, he knew how to put the pieces back together.

"Ginny, my Ginny."

Her mother rocked them all side to side and then took Ginny's face in her hands. Ginny looked into those rich brown eyes, swimming with tears, and smiled.

"Hi, Mum."

"Why didn't you tell us? You could have said something! When did you arrive? How did you and Harry-"

"Molly." Her father put his hands on her mother's shoulders, stilling her gently. "Let them breath."

"Of course, I'm just...overwhelmed."

"Me too, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. Through all of this, he'd never let go of Ginny's hand, just like he promised. "Everything smells good. I'm hungry."

Ginny's mother seemed to think about that for half a second before turning to look at him. "Of course, you are. Let's...let's sit down and eat. There will be time for questions later."

"Thank you," Ginny whispered to Harry as they walked over to the table. He gave a quick wink and continued to hold her hand firmly.

"Hello, everyone," Ginny greeted when they'd arrived at the table. Hermione met her with a hug, Bill with another. Charlie grinned from his side of the table, where he had his chair tipped up onto two legs, balancing precariously.

"Hello, Fluture," he said. "Fancy meeting you here." Another tie.

"Hi, Charlie. Glad you made it alright."

"You too." He looked at Harry, an appraising look in his eyes. For some, it might seem predatory, but Ginny knew that Charlie was putting the puzzle pieces together in his head. Soon, a genuine smile broke out.

A small child-Teddy, Ginny assumed-broke out into wails and the only woman Ginny didn't know at the table gathered him up. He was going on and on about ghouls, but Ginny had no clue what that was about.

"Sorry," Bill muttered. "He's a bit...excitable."

"I thought your girlfriend was French," Ron said. Both he and George were hovering, just out of Ginny's reach. The distance hurt, but Ginny understood it. Like Harry kept saying, it would take time.

"_You_ said she was French," Harry said. He pulled out a chair for Ginny next to his own and gestured for her to sit. "I said she lived in France."

"Does it really matter?" Hermione asked. "Can't we just enjoy that Ginny is home?" She stopped suddenly and turned to look at Ginny. "You...you are home, right? Maybe you're just visiting. I suppose we shouldn't assume."

Ginny took a shaky breath in, looking around at everyone, finally stopping on Harry's face. "I'm home," she said softly.

Xxxxx

Hours later, they were still sitting at the table. The food had long since been eaten, the wine Harry and Ginny brought was down to the last bit, and the lanterns were the only light. Ginny had answered many questions, but dodged a few, also. Harry was great at running interference, and Charlie helped, too.

Teddy was asleep against Bill's chest. He hadn't fully warmed to Ginny, even after he'd been assured that she wasn't a ghoul in any shape or form. His answer of 'she damned well better not be' had set the table roaring with laughter.

Tonks had glared at the Weasleys. "I blame you," she'd said, pointing at Ron. "And you." George. "And you!" she'd finished by pointing at Arthur. "It's all of you, really. You've corrupted my child. Just ruined him."

"Oh ho! That's rich, love," Bill said. "You swear more than any of us."

There was an overwhelming sense of affection in his words and Ginny was struck by how different Bill seemed since the last time he'd come to visit her in France. He and Fleur had just called it quits the summer before the Final Battle. He'd proposed at her parent's home, but Fleur had told him no. Ginny wasn't sure of all the details, just that it had ended badly. He'd visited Ginny at Beauxbatons for a few hours before telling her that he didn't plan to ever return to France again. He'd seemed so...broken when he'd left.

"Yeah, Tonks," Ron said, "just the other day when you came into the shop-"

"That'll be enough out of you," Tonks growled. "Don't make me use a silencing charm."

"I would help," Ginny's mother groused, her arms crossed over her chest and a glare in her eyes.

"These people are crazy," Ginny muttered to Harry.

He grinned widely and nodded as he sat back in his chair. "They're family."

For the first time in a very long time, Ginny let herself open up and feel that they _were_ her family-all of them-not just pieces and parts to be taken individually.

"Been to see Fred yet?"

George's question brought a palpable ache to the table.

"George-"

"I've only been back a day," Ginny said, talking over her father. She'd wondered how George would feel about her coming back, about her absence from Fred's funeral. He'd been very distant since then, hardly writing to her, and never visiting even when she knew he'd been through the area on business trips.

"Well, when you're ready...I'll go with you."

He looked down at the table, not at her, but Ginny understood. It was a peace offering, a start at trying to rebuild their relationship.

"I'd like that, George. Thank you."

She turned back around, overhearing a part of Harry and Ron's conversation.

"...why you changed the wards on your flat?"

"Er...partly," Harry said. He drank the last of his wine and looked into the glass, probably wishing there was more. He and Ginny hadn't discussed telling her family that they were living together. It hadn't even occurred to either of them, likely.

"Wait, you're living with Harry?" Bill perked up, breaking from what he was telling Charlie.

"Yes," Ginny said. She sat up straighter in her chair, waiting for someone to say something more about it. She wasn't about to apologize for living her life. Merlin, didn't they trust her to make her own decisions, yet?

"Why do you have a problem with it?" Charlie asked, his question directed toward Bill. "You've lived with witches over the years."

Bill's face turned red and he glanced at Tonks before clearing his throat.

But Charlie wasn't nearly finished. "Hermione practically lives at Ron's flat. George has a revolving door of witches in and out of his place-"

"Charlie!" Their mother, scandalized, tried to shut him up.

"And Merlin knows I'm no angel," he continued right on. "What does it matter about Ginny and Harry? He could have brought her here knocked up and dragging their three illegitimate children along behind and Dad and Mum would still think Harry hung the moon."

Harry groaned next to her and Ginny, trying to hold in a laugh, glanced over to find him red faced.

"The point is," Charlie said as he sat back and drained the last of his pint, "they're happy. For once, we're all happy. Isn't that enough?"

In a strange, Charlie sort of way, it all made sense.

"Ginny, dear," her mother said. "Perhaps when you're all settled, we can go together to get you a few things to make the flat feel a bit more like...home."

Her parents may not understand or approve, but they were willing to let Ginny make her own choices and trusting that the ones she was making were hers. The idea made her stop and think about their interactions over the past years, perhaps seeing them in a different light.

Could Harry have been right-all they wanted was for her to be home with them again? She wasn't sure yet, but tonight was certainly giving her a whole lot to think about.

"Alright?" Harry asked as he leaned in and placed a kiss on her ear.

"Yeah." She rested her hand on his leg and tried to relax into the seat.

The golden light twinkled and flickered over the table, reminding Ginny of when she was little and they used to run in the trees behind the house, looking for fairies. They never caught any, but her brothers assured her they were out there, and a part of Ginny still believed they might be. She looked to those trees now, narrowing her eyes a bit in search of the little lights.

"...was pretty good on a broom back then. She used to break into the shed and steal the boys' brooms."

Ginny turned to look at her father, who was beaming at her while her brothers all squawked about her misadventures in youth.

"She's still a good flyer," Harry informed them. "She was in charge of all the broom tours over Paris."

"Not all of them," she corrected gently, "just...just the ones for our agency."

"Which was the best one," Harry protested. "Top rated in _Where Wizards Wander_."

"You read that barmy thing?" Ron burst out.

Harry shrugged. "Hermione slipped it into my bag, and I was on that damned train for ten hours. I had to read _something_!"

"You never told me that," Ginny said, quietly.

Harry turned to her. "Didn't think much about it until you gave me that first tour of the markets."

"And you still didn't mention it?"

"I was rather distracted, if you remember, and half in love with you already." His fingers brushed a bit of hair out of her face that always came out of her plait.

"Maybe we can go flying one day. All of us, I mean."

The suggestion was made by Ron and Ginny realized with a start that he was directing it to her. Another tie-hesitant and small-was being revealed.

"Sounds fun," Ginny said, "f\if you can keep up."

"Oh, now it's a challenge, Fluture," Charlie said as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I've been trying to get Harry's skinny arse on a broom for years. Little blighter is scared of me."

"Am not," Harry snapped. "I can fly circles around you, Charlie, just never wanted to embarrass you in front of the family."

The moment devolved with all of her brothers and Harry extolling their flying prowess. Ginny, who almost joined them, looked up to see her parents watching the exchange with misty eyes.

The urge to go to them, to climb over the table just to be near them was great, and Ginny had to swallow back a sob. The night had been more than she could have ever hoped for. She was home again, finally. And while things weren't perfect, they were better. The ties were there, just waiting for her to rediscover and strengthen. Maybe they'd always been there, but Ginny had lost sight of them.

"...ten galleons apiece, then," Bill said, "for anyone who can beat Charlie in a race."

Ginny laughed. This was the family she remembered, and it seemed that Harry fit right in. He'd already tossed his galleons into the bowl that Bill was levitating around, despite their mother's protest that they shouldn't be gambling.

"Not to worry, Mum," George said as he dumped a handful of coins into the bowl. "I'll buy you something nice when I win."

That set the boys off again.

"I'll judge," Hermione offered.

"That's because you're pants on a broom, dear," Ron pointed out, but he leaned over and kissed her when Hermione scowled at him.

"And I'll hold the pot," Tonks offered. "I can't walk a straight line on the ground, and I'm worse in the air."

"Don't go spending it while we're not looking," Charlie warned.

"On what?" Tonks challenged.

Charlie spluttered, searching for something to cover himself. "On...on something girly!"

Bill chuckled and shook his head at his little brother. "She's still an Auror, mate. I'd let that go, if I was you."

From the end of the table, another bet floated toward the bowl. "My money is on Harry and Ginny," Ginny's father said.

"They're not a team!" Ron protested. "There are no teams. You've got to choose one or the other."

"Then _I'll_ take Ginny," her mother piped up. She looked around at all her boys. "I don't have the galleons on me at the moment, but I'm good for it."

"That leaves me with Harry," Ginny's father said. "Always a good bet."

"He was always your favorite kid, Dad," George grumbled.

"And now he's going to marry Ginny," Ron said, a sly look at the two of them. "Great. We'll never win anything around here again."

"It's a bit soon to be-"

But Harry just winked at her and Ginny let the words die on her tongue. The idea of marrying Harry didn't bother her. It didn't set off warning bells or even make her heart race in the way that it might have months ago. She could see herself there, next to Harry for the rest of their lives.

"Merlin! Don't get Mum started," Ron said. "She'll be planning a wedding soon."

"Mum?" George scoffed. "It's Dad you've got to watch out for. He'll have them married in no time. He's always wanted Harry to be a Weasley."

"I always wondered—hoped, maybe. And now Harry can be family for good. You don't mind taking the Weasley name, do you Harry?"

Everyone at the table turned to look at Harry after the Weasley Patriarch's words, wondering how he would react.

"I'd be honored, Mr. Weasley."

"We could charm his hair red," Tonks offered, brandishing her wand threateningly.

"You could hyphenate, Harry, like some witches do when they get married. Potter-Weasley, or Weasley-Potter," Hermione said.

Ginny just laughed as the suggestions kept coming on how to make Harry more of an official family member.

"Remember when you wanted me to come home?" Ginny asked. "Getting a bit more than you bargained for, aren't you?"

"Not at all." He kissed her, unconcerned with the whistles and suggestive comments from a few of her brothers.

Xxxxx

Ginny lay in the stillness of the bedroom. Harry was asleep next to her, soft puffs of air coming from him regularly. She was exhausted, but still sleep was just out of reach, as elusive as the cat, Lafayette, could be at times.

A smile came to her when she remembered the cat. He'd gone missing again the morning that Ginny had left Paris. She'd tried to help Madam Beaulieu find him for as long as she could before she'd had to leave to make it to the Ministry in time to catch her portkey. As she left the neighborhood, she'd looked back over her shoulder and seen him there, on the top of the building, next to one of the ornate carvings that sat at the corner of the roof, watching her walk away. It seemed as if he might be saying 'goodbye', or even 'take me with you'.

Maybe she could talk Harry into getting a cat. Or even a little crup. They could name him Napoleon, since he would be small but definitely in charge around the flat.

The light of the moon streamed through the stained-glass window that Harry had installed, the emerald and blue glass glowing beautifully. It was their own little bit of Paris right here in England.

Lightly, she began to hum a song, one of her favorites from when she would listen to the wireless in Paris.

Slowly, her eyes slipped closed. Harry's hand found her, tugging her back to him and curling over her hip. Ginny let out a deep breath and felt the early tug of sleep.

"Je suis de retour. Je suis chez moi, là où je dois être." The words felt like a dream. She fell asleep and dreamt of flying with Harry over the long grass at the Burrow, the sound of her brothers' laughter chasing them as they crossed Hermione's finish line together. They'd use the money they won to buy Napoleon.

The End

_Author's Note: This story was a whole lot of fun to write. I appreciate your feedback and patience with my first real story. It is dedicated to the person who listens to all my stories and always asks for more. I will never run out of stories for you. (There may be a bonus chapter coming soon, just for fun, so keep an eye out!)_


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